


Chains of Fantasia

by Actual_Pixie, Fire_Rose17



Category: Code Geass, Phantom of the Opera
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Captivity, Crossover, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Love Triangles, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Musical References, Partial Mind Control, Possessive Behavior, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 121,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Pixie/pseuds/Actual_Pixie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Rose17/pseuds/Fire_Rose17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the nineteenth century. Suzaku works as a stage hand in the Avalon Opera House when a mysterious figure sweeps him away in a swirl of wonder and music. Will Suzaku succumb to The Phantom of the Opera?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who is this Angel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fire_Rose17** : _I happened to see the Phantom of the Opera movie about a year ago, and immediately fell in love with the music and the story. As I am apt to do with any movie, book, television show I happen to like, my mind immediately applied it to Code Geass. So when, months later, LawliPop,my friend and fellow PotO fan, asked for participants in a CG/PotO rp, it was as if it was meant for to be. After a long stream of PMs discussing the ideas and mechanics, the thing grew into a full blown collaborative fic. So that's the story. Anything to add, Lawli?_
> 
>  **Lawli** : _I think that pretty much covers it... Seriously though, I've been waiting ages to write some kind of Phantom crossover - but one that wasn't just an obvious re-casting of the movie/musical. I think (hope) we've done a nice job making it original while still keeping key elements from the movie, musical and books alike. ^-^ But I guess that's for the readers to decide, haha..._
> 
> Rated M for future chapters.
> 
> * * *

**Overture**

_He couldn't remember ever being so cold. The wind whipped at him, trees groaning under its force, and each drop of rain stung like the prick of a needle. But even as his clothes clung to his body, chilling him to the bone - he felt none of it. His awareness had been left behind, frozen at the top of a grand staircase at the sound of gunshots._

_People passed him by, uncaring of how the little boy shivered. In their eyes, he was just another homeless child, attempting to con others out of their hard earned money by inspiring pity and tugging on heartstrings. There were others like him huddled on every street corner, and whether or not he froze to death alone in the night was none of their concern. After all, he wasn'ttheir child._

_He pulled his cloak closer, the hood veiling his eyes. Once it had offered sufficient protection, but now it was drenched and useless. He may as well have been wearing a blanket of ice as the frigid drops beat down on him, cold and unforgiving, just like the world._

_And then it stopped._

_Surprised, the little boy looked up, unable to comprehend the unexpected miracle. The first thing that registered in his mind was: green. Wide green eyes, so out of place among the blacks and muted grays, blinked owlishly down at him. The boy was about his own age, tiny against the people and buildings but somehow infinitely more substantial. He'd never truly believed in a higher power, but it could only be a messenger of God who stood before him, holding out an umbrella, unfazed bythe rain now soaking through his own thin clothing._

_He didn't know what to do. Adults were cruel, and children more often than not crueler still; so he just stared at the boy, half-expecting him to laugh, revealing the cruel joke. But the boy merely took a step closer, urging the umbrella towards him until, fingers trembling with uncertainty, he took it in his own grasp._

_There was a flash of teeth - a smile that lit up the boy's entire face, making his eyes sparkle - before, quickly as he came, he disappeared into the crowd._

_The handle of the umbrella was warm from use. He cradled it against his chest._

_He'd never received a gift before, and belatedly he realized that he had never even thanked his savior or asked for his name._

* * *

 

**Chapter One**

**Who is this Angel?**

The only memories Suzaku had of his mother were of her playing the piano. He used to sit on her lap and watch her long fingers glide across the keys. Sometimes she would allow him to assist her (in his own, toddler-like fashion) but he had always preferred to listen. There had been something magical about the way the sounds resonated throughout the room, as if his mother had channeled all the beauty and wonders of the world through her hands and lovingly guided them into existence.

He was older now, but music had never lost its magic for him. After his mother died, it became the only connection Suzaku had to her. He could no longer recall her face or her warmth, but he remembered her songs, and could feel close to her through them, even if she remained a stranger in every other way.

It was for this reason that he loved his job. He had undergone many changes of employment, especially for his young age of nineteen. Finding a job wasn't so easy nowadays. Since the occupation, Britannians had taken over the management of nearly every business, and they didn't look kindly on natives. Suzaku had been fired more than he could count, the number only surpassed by the amount of times the door had been slammed in his face all together.

But the frustration and humiliation had been worth it, for all those failures were what led him to the Avalon Opera. As a child he had despised the building, once a palace of ancient emperors, turned into an ostentatious symbol of how Britannia was gradually taking over. But he had been foolish then. The Opera was a home of music, and music was universal, blind to matters as trivial as race.

The _people_ , of course, were another manner entirely. They hadn't wanted to give Suzaku this job, but they had needed stagehands, and the strength of Suzaku's body had factored more heavily than the color of his skin and the shape of his eyes.

And after seeing Suzaku up in the rafters, pulling on ropes and arranging sets, any idea of letting him go swiftly departed. He moved up there with the grace of a cat, perfectly balanced on the thin wooden beams and maneuvering more easily than most did on solid ground. The stage director had even remarked that he might be better off joining the circus with the gypsies.

But Suzaku wasn't going anywhere. In the two weeks he had been employed at the Opera, he had found a home amidst the rafters, surrounded by the music he loved. In his opinion, there was no better seat in the house, and he rather enjoyed the adrenaline rush he received from looking down at the world from on high.

"If you keep your head in the clouds like that, you'll lose your balance," Rivalz, his fellow stagehand, chided him.

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "You think so?" he asked, dangling a foot precariously over the edge.

Rivalz's eyes widened in alarm. He grabbed Suzaku's arm, pulling him towards more solid footing. "Are you insane? Do you _want_ to fall?"

Suzaku glanced at the ground. "I don't know, it might be kind of exhilarating. After all, there's not much difference between falling and flying. It's just a matter of perspective." At Rivalz's dubious expression, Suzaku laughed. "You worry too much, Rivalz."

"One day, your recklessness is going to kill you," Rivalz warned, rolling his eyes.

"But not today!" Suzaku replied cheerfully. "Now hush, rehearsal's starting."

Rivalz made a face. "Come on, it's not as if we haven't heard Clovis's rendition of Hannibal for the past two weeks. You can hear him from his dressing room, and that's bad enough."

Suzaku signaled for him to be quiet and Rivalz cut his complaint short, shaking his head. It wasn't Clovis he cared about hearing. The music to Hannibal was breathtaking, and the orchestra was all Suzaku needed to drown out Clovis's voice. Suzaku turned his gaze back to the stage - but not before a flutter of material caught his attention near the cyclorama. Interest piqued - he and Rivalz were the only ones allowed up here during rehearsals, so what on earth could it be? - He stepped away from the guard rail and made his way across the intricate plywood bridges that crisscrossed the stage from above.

Upon arriving upstage he found nothing. The ropes securing the boards he stood on swung with his movement, but other than that the rafters were still.

Someone screamed.

Heart leaping into his throat, Suzaku rushed back to his post, watching as Clovis emerged from underneath a collapsed backdrop.

"What the devil is going on up there, Eleven?" cried the stage manager.

Suzaku swallowed, unsure of what to say. There was no-one up here besides Rivalz and himself, and before the start of rehearsal he'd seen to it that all set pieces were properly secured.

"Don't look at us," Rivalz called out in response. "We've been at our posts the whole time!"

Even from far below them, Suzaku could tell the opera manager did not seem convinced. "Well if not you or the Eleven, who else could it have been?"

Rivalz grinned. "Maybe it was the ghost."

Suzaku blinked curiously, but before he could ask Rivalz just what he meant by that an outbreak of whispers erupted below him. The chorus girls talked frantically amongst themselves; Suzaku picked out select phrases such as, "he's here!" and, "the Opera Ghost!" - but it all made very little sense to him, and to the Opera's new manager, apparently.

"You're all obsessed," Bartley said, exasperated as he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Clovis, I apologize for the... _stupidity_ of our stagehands. But you must understand that occasionally these things happen."

Clovis pulled himself to his full height, adjusting the headpiece of his costume just-so. "These things happen," he repeated, voice low.

Beside him, Suzaku noticed Rivalz grip the guard rail as if to brace himself. As Clovis began to throw his tantrum, Suzaku quickly understood why. He'd never heard a grown man produce a sound quite so... _shrill_.

"- this is sabotage!" Clovis screeched, gesticulating wildly at Bartley as his voice reached octaves Suzaku was sure the leading sopranos would be jealous of. "I won't stand for it! And until you can stop these things from happening, this-" at this, his gestures turned to his own throat, "- _does not happen_!"

"Remind me to thank the Opera Ghost if we ever meet him," Rivalz whispered to Suzaku.

Bartley, however, did not seem to agree. "Please don't say that, Clovis," he begged. "We need you!"

There was something very pathetic about seeing a grown man groveling on his knees, especially to someone half his age.

"No!" Clovis yelled, crossing his arms petulantly. "I mean it, Bartley! An artist should not have to feel as if his life is in danger whenever he sets foot on the stage. I cannot work under such stressful conditions! I won't sing another note."

"Fine, then don't."

Both Bartley and Clovis turned their gaze towards the director of the choir.

She was known only as C.C.; no one knew her real name. She had joined the Opera about ten years ago, and veterans of the business claimed she hadn't aged a day since. Rumor had it that she was an immortal witch, over four hundred years old.

Bartley may have been the manager in name, but everyone knew it was C.C. who kept the place running. Nothing escaped her knowing amber gaze, and there wasn't a better eye for musical talent in Britannia, colonized areas included. Clovis's shrill bullying may have had an effect on Bartley, but he wouldn't scare the Witch of the Opera.

Clovis's eyes narrowed. "What did you say to me?"

C.C. smiled. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you were hard of hearing. Though, it does explain a lot. What I said was, if you have no desire to sing, then don't do it. We'll find someone else."

It was not only Bartley and Clovis who took exception to her words, but the conductor of the orchestra as well. Clovis was the Opera's leading male; there had never been an understudy cast for his roles. Bartley shook his head frantically, trying desperately to smooth over the horrible situation. It was three days until the opening night of Hannibal and the performance was already sold out; he would be expected to refund a full house! "No! She doesn't mean that, Clovis! No one could possibly replace you!"

" _Everyone_ can be replaced," C.C. drawled amidst the rising voices of the chorus. "It shouldn't be too hard finding someone to sing Hannibal's part. I'm sure there are at least one or two people in the chorus who have been practicing the role, just in case such an opportunity arose." The whispers immediately stopped, none of the chorus members wanting to be accused of such a thing. No-one knew knew Clovis's part, did they? No-one would dare rehearse it and face the man's jealous wrath! "Who knows? We may even discover a diamond in the rough and eliminate the need for you altogether."

Clovis made a face as if he had just swallowed something very slimy and bitter. "That... won't be necessary," he said stiffly. "I'll sing."

"Don't force yourself," C.C. said sweetly. "If the conditions are too much for you..."

"N-no, I'll do it," Clovis insisted. "I _want_ to."

"All right then," C.C replied, smiling brightly. "From the top, maestro!"

Rivalz groaned. "Should have known that wouldn't last."

Suzaku nodded dully, but his mind was still on the fallen backdrop. He was certain that he had secured it properly; he had even double-checked just to make sure.

And then he remembered the flutter of fabric he'd spotted out of the corner of his eye. There was no possible way that someone could have gotten up to the rafters without anyone noticing. It had to have been Suzaku's imagination, but he couldn't get Rivalz's words out of his head.

_"Maybe it was the ghost."_

* * *

 

The Avalon Opera was haunted.

Even those who were not regular patrons knew of the ghost's existence, although no one - not even the crew members who had been around since the building's construction - could honestly claim to have ever seen it.

"Of course you can't see him. He's not visible to the human eye. But he's certainly here. He has his own ways of making his presence known... today's rehearsal, for example."

Perhaps the most invested in the old horror story was Milly Ashford, headstrong prima donna of the Opera house. It was rumored that the Opera Ghost was the one who helped with the advancement of her career, catapulting her by means of 'amiable letters to the management' from background dancer in the corps de ballet to leading lady.

"So these letters are the only proof you have of his existence?" Suzaku, who had lingered backstage after the rehearsal in hopes of getting some questions answered, did not look convinced. "How do you know they're not fakes?"

"They're not." Milly removed some of the pins from her hair, allowing the curls to fall loose. Suzaku opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted him. "You don't have to see something in order to believe in it. But if you really need convincing..." her lips curved into a daring smile, eyes darting to the upper galleries of the house, "perhaps you should spend some time in Box Five."

"Box Five?" Suzaku repeated, following her gaze.

It looked no different than any of the other boxes, but now as he thought about it he realized that he'd never actually seen that box sold for a performance.

"That's his box," Milly explained. "He comes to every performance, and if he's pleased he'll leave a token."

There was something in her voice that sent a chill down Suzaku's spine. "...And if he's not pleased?" At this point he wasn't even sure he wanted to hear the answer, so he was somewhat thankful when she was called away by the choir director to go over notes from the rehearsal.

* * *

 

The Ghost appeared to be the Opera's favorite topic. So much so that Suzaku couldn't believe he hadn't heard about it beforehand. Everyone claimed to have had encounters with him, felt his presence or heard his voice. It wasn't strange, as theatre folk were notoriously superstitious. What Suzaku took issue with was that everyone seemed to expect him to know all about the subject.

"I'm sorry," he said to a group of ballerinas, admirably hiding his irritation, "but I have no idea how to perform an exorcism."

One girl pouted. "But you're an Eleven, aren't you? I thought you people knew all about that sort of thing. Unless," her eyes narrowed, "you're in league with it. I bet _your_ people summoned it here!"

"Leave the poor man alone!" a voice barked harshly, making the corps de ballet jump.

Kallen Stadtfelt, the prima ballerina, was known for her sharp temper and sharper tongue. She was also known for her long legs, which she regularly used to execute both graceful pirouettes and roundhouse kicks to anyone who dared to cross her. Her most notable claim to fame was, upon discovering her hair was getting in the way of her performance, rather than pulling it up into a bun as was customary, simply grabbing a pair of scissors from the costume room and hacking most of it off.

The little ballerina turned to her leader, holding her head up bravely (meanwhile she was visibly shaking in her pointe shoes). "Well, we have to find some way of defending ourselves. This place is haunted! It's only a matter of time before one of us gets attacked!"

Kallen rolled her eyes. "Why would anyone want to haunt _you_? You're not that interesting. And anyway, if you have time to waste with foolish superstitions, you should have time to practice, right? Or are you in your tights simply to turn heads?"

The girl flushed brightly and, with one last glare at Suzaku (as she didn't have the courage to do so at Kallen), she exited, taking her little entourage with her.

"I'm sorry about them," Kallen sighed. "All this ghost talk has destroyed whatever small amounts of reason in those girl's silly little heads... I swear, someone comes into the dressing room every week screaming about a sighting."

"It's okay," Suzaku assured her, a little surprised that she was actually talking to him. In the theatre hierarchy, stagehands were the lowest of the low, especially foreigners. First tier members didn't usually associate with him (Milly was an exception; she talked to _everyone_ ).

"So," Suzaku began hesitantly, "you don't believe in the ghost then?"

Kallen shrugged. "It's not that I _don't_ believe in it, I've just never seen it. No-one has. I don't doubt the possibility that ghosts may exist, but if I'm going to believe something, I have to see it for myself."

Suzaku nodded. "Yes, exactly!"

"Of course, there's a very simple way of proving or disproving his existence," Kallen said. "Someone would just have to investigate Box Five. Milly's been daring people to go up there for years, but no one ever does. They're all too afraid that there is a ghost, or too afraid that there isn't one."

"Why haven't you gone up there?" Suzaku asked.

"I suppose it's the latter reason," Kallen replied. "Whether I believe it or not, I like the novelty of the idea. After all, what's a theatre without its ghost?"

Suzaku nodded in understanding.

Kallen smiled, and it was very special because, as far as Suzaku could tell, it didn't happen often. "But I can tell that you're different. You honestly want to know the truth, and I admire that. My only request is that, when you look at Box Five, you keep your discoveries to yourself. The truth would only destroy the mystery, no matter what conclusion you come to."

Without waiting for his answer, Kallen turned away, presumably heading towards her room. For a brief moment Suzaku watched her go, but then he turned his head upward. Box Five loomed up in the first tier. He couldn't believe something sinister was going on up there, but he couldn't help his curiosity. He had seen _something_ in the rafters, he was certain of it; and if Box Five held all the answers, he was going to find them.

* * *

 

He waited until night fell before sneaking back into the theatre. The boxes were always locked when they weren't in use, so rather than taking the conventional method of the stairs, Suzaku simply started at the lower sections and climbed his way up. Each box had its own balcony which he used as a foothold. There wasn't too much distance between each level, and his fear of heights was pretty much nonexistent, so the task was easily accomplished.

Box Five was probably the most ideal seating in the house. The high vantage point offered an excellent viewing angle, and it was directly opposite of the stage. Keeping it empty for every performance must have cost the manager quite a sum of money. But aside from the view it was completely ordinary, and completely empty.

For whatever reason, however - call it anxiety; maybe Milly's words were getting to him, and maybe that had been her aim all along - he couldn't shake the distinct feeling that he was being watched, and Suzaku's instincts were rarely wrong.

"Hello?" Suzaku called. "Is anyone here?"

No answer, and of course there wouldn't be. There was no ghost! Suzaku had just heard one too many ghost stories, and he laughed at his foolishness. Although, if Suzaku had truly been honest with himself, he would have been unable to discern whether that laughter was relieved or disappointed.

Shrugging, Suzaku leaned over the balcony. So this is what rich people saw. The view was good, sure, but he would have to say he still preferred the rafters. There was no way of getting any closer to the music, save for actually being on stage. It was actually kind of amusing, people paying huge amounts of money for what he not only got for free, but was _paid_ to be there. Truly, he had the best job in the world.

It was still interesting to see the stage from this side of the curtain though, and impulsively Suzaku climbed onto the railing, curious at what the highest point in the Opera house (aside from the roof, which people weren't allowed to climb, he'd already asked) felt like.

Smiling, Suzaku stretched out his arms. This was probably the closest he would ever get to flying, unless he actually _did_ plummet over the edge like Rivalz always warned him he would.

"If you're absolutely determined to jump to your death," a voice suddenly interrupted, "I would be much obliged if you waited another half hour."

If it were not for the countless hours up in the rafters improving on his balance, Suzaku was certain that tumbling to his death would have been his fate. The unexpectedness of the voice did in fact make him stumble, but luckily for him he was near enough to a marble column to grab hold of it and steady himself. Heart hammering in his chest, Suzaku held his breath, wondering if that had just happened or if all the stories coupled with the darkness of the theatre were just fueling his imagination.

"Or," suggested the voice from absolutely nowhere, "perhaps choose another location entirely. Blood is a difficult stain to remove, and velvet a very delicate material."

There were a million things Suzaku wanted to say as he cautiously lowered himself from the balcony's railing - the most obvious being to ask who the voice belonged to (though undoubtedly it belonged to a man, making the ghost, if it really was the ghost, a male like everyone had assumed).

But instead of all the profound things he could have asked, the first thing he blurted was an accusation: "If I did fall, it would have been your fault."

The voice sounded amused. "Oh?"

Suzaku nodded, although he was unsure if the ghost - or whatever it was, maybe just another stagehand playing a prank - could even see him since he had no idea where the voice was coming from. Cautiously he began another slow inspection of the box, touching each of the velvet-cushioned seats as if to determine whether or not an invisible spectre inhabited one.

"I wasn't planning on killing myself." He didn't know why he felt the need to explain himself to something that may or may not be a product of his imagination, but nevertheless he continued. "I've never seen the stage from anywhere but above. I wanted to look from the best seat in the house. It was your voice that startled me."

"Startled you? But surely you know this is my private box."

Now Suzaku was really convinced this was an elaborate joke. Any moment now he expected someone to jump out from behind the curtains and cry 'boo!' Trying to keep his footsteps silent, he approached the curtains concealing the doors of the box; maybe he could give them a little surprise in return. "And who are you?"

Without waiting for a response, Suzaku threw back the curtain - discovering only the locked doors behind them. The box was completely empty, or so it appeared. A shiver ran down his spine and he asked again, an edge of nervousness to his voice, "Who are you?"

"Hush."

The fact that Suzaku no longer knew if he was dealing with an ordinary prankster or a supernatural being was more than enough to make him follow the command. Pressing his lips together, he moved back over to the railing, the sound of footsteps capturing his attention.

C.C. made her way across the stage, her long hair flowing behind her. Suzaku watched as she situated herself at the piano. In a matter of seconds, music filled the still air of the theatre.

"This is _Faust_ ," Suzaku said, recognizing it instantly. "Marguerite's ballad."

"You know it?" The voice sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes." Of course he knew it. It was a tad insulting for anyone to suggest that, working in an opera house, Suzaku would be unfamiliar with such an acclaimed opera. "It's the King of Thule." It was one of the songs he remembered his mother playing so often on the piano, the sad song of being faithful to a lover even long after their death.

"And here I thought the stagehands just liked to look at dancing girls."

Suzaku couldn't help himself; he blushed. "That's an unfair assumption." Although it wasn't completely unfounded. He couldn't count how many times he'd caught Rivalz drooling over Milly.

The voice said nothing further, and so Suzaku contented himself with leaning against the marble column and listening to C.C. play out the final measures of the King of Thule.

"You should be on your way."

It was not the voice that spoke to him now, but C.C.; she'd finished the song and now stood beside the piano, staring out into the house. Suzaku blinked, wondering if he had been talking that loudly - and also curious as to whether or not C.C. heard the voice he had been conversing with. What was she doing in the theatre so late at night, anyway?

Realizing she could very well demand the same question of him - and, if she so desired, get him in a lot of trouble for snooping around the private boxes when they were supposed to be locked - Suzaku decided not to press his luck. Giving Box Five a final sweep with his eyes, Suzaku climbed back over the railing.

"And just how do you plan on getting back down?" came the voice again.

Suzaku smiled. "The same way I got up."

And he jumped.

* * *

 

"Was that wise?"

For as long as he could remember, C.C. had been an unfaltering presence in his life. She was his caretaker, his confidante; and as such he always valued her opinion even if he did outwardly find her frustrating more often than not.

She had been the one to rescue him from a harsh life on the streets, assist him in building his sanctuary within the bowels of the Avalon Opera. She was the one who ensured all the rumors of his existence remained only that: rumors. And for the past ten years she had been completely successful in all of it. He was eternally grateful for her, for the charitable kindness he still did not understand (she was clearly not afraid of him, so why go to such great lengths to assist him?) which, before meeting her, he had only experienced once before - with the little boy and the umbrella. That night so many years ago, the strongest memory of which he retained was the color green.

For years those eyes had haunted his memory. The boy was a regular visitor in his dreams, smiling and offering, instead of his umbrella, his hand. And he would take it, and he would let that boy lead him anywhere. To the ends of the earth - to unspeakable joy or unbearable sorrow - he would follow.

C.C. did not think it wise, but what luck to come across a pair of eyes so strikingly familiar! He hadn't believed it at first. He knew all the performers, everyone from the leading soprano to the background dancers. If they had performed on Avalon's stage, he knew their name as well as a rudimentary knowledge of their history. But he had never bothered to learn about the stagehands. It wasn't that he didn't view their job as important, he just never had an interest. While it was true the actual _spectacle_ of the performance would not exist without them, they had nothing to do with music.

Who would have thought the daredevil scene-shifter, who scaled walls and quietly accepted constant derision and criticism from his superiors, could possibly be the savior from his memories?

But those eyes, they were unmistakable.

In all his life, he had never encountered an Eleven with such unique eyes. Only his savior. The rest of the boy's features were familiar as well; grown and matured, but undoubtedly the same as that little boy in the rain. It was him. After all this time, all the years pining to see him again - he was _here_.

And _he_ was...

Dimly, he heard C.C. approach. "So, boy, what do you intend to do?" she asked.

For the first time, he realized he didn't know.

* * *

 

Suzaku was being watched. He could feel eyes on him, up in the rafters, while he was assembling sets, and whenever he was alone. It wasn't constant, but he felt the gaze often enough that it was beginning to scare him. He was not stupid enough to believe that the sensation starting right after his little exploration of Box Five was merely coincidence.

The truth was, Suzaku still wasn't sure just _what_ had gone on that night. If it hadn't been for the continual feeling of eyes on his back, he may have chalked the entire evening up to a prank (it wouldn't have been the first time the others had tried to mess with the Eleven). But no one in the Opera would have gone as far as to actually _stalk_ him.

Besides, the Ghost (if that was truly what he was) hadn't seemed malevolent. All the stories had led him to believe he was this mysterious, dark figure who ate souls and allied himself with the devil, but in Suzaku's conversation with him, he had seemed so... normal (or as normal as a disembodied voice _could_ be). A tad annoyed, yes, but definitely not _evil_.

It took a physical nudge from Rivalz to make him realize he had missed his cue to fly in the backdrop for the next scene.

"Eleven!" the manager barked.

_Why can't anyone learn my name?_ Suzaku wondered dully.

"I'm sorry, sir," Suzaku apologized. "It won't happen again."

"It better not!" the man warned. "Do you realize that Hannibal opens _tomorrow_?"

How could he forget? Bartley only reminded them every thirty seconds.

"I believe that's my concern, Bartley," said Asplund, the stage director. "Why don't you go back to your office and do..." He made a waving motion with his hands, as if it was unfathomable to him just what a manager of the Opera actually _did_ with his spare time, " _paperwork_ or something?"

Bartley shot the director a dirty look, but nevertheless complied.

"All right, now that the mother hen is gone, I want to go over that last scene! Strings, you've been lagging behind! Don't think I haven't noticed, Weinberg!"

The orchestra started up again, and Clovis emerged at his cue.

"All right, Hannibal is on set!" Asplund looked skyward. "Lord help us."

As Clovis began his (agonizingly) long solo, Rivalz turned to Suzaku. "Hey, are you okay? You don't usually lose your head on set like that."

Suzaku nodded. "Yeah, I just haven't been sleeping well these last couple of days." That at least was true enough.

After rehearsal, just as Suzaku was about to help cleaning the stage, the director called out to him.

"Kururugi, may I see you for a minute?"

"Uh...yes, sir," Suzaku replied, a bit nervous.

The man led him to a spacious office made impossibly small by clutter. There were papers scattered on every available flat surface with no discernable filing system, old tea cups, their contents long drained, lying on the desk, and what appeared to be mathematical formulas written directly on the walls.

"Director Asplund-" Suzaku began.

"Call me Lloyd," the man cut in.

"Uh...okay, Lloyd. If this is about the backdrop-"

Lloyd interrupted again. "I don't care about that. What I'm interested in is your body."

Suzaku blinked slowly. "...What?"

"I only want to borrow it for a while," Lloyd said. "I promise I won't damage it too badly-"

This time, it was Lloyd who was cut off by a sharp smack to the head with a libretto.

"Lloyd! I thought we talked about rehearsing sentences internally before speaking," cried a pretty young woman with short hair.

Lloyd pouted, rubbing his bruised skull. "I did!" he protested. "This one passed!"

"Well, maybe a good rule of thumb would be that if _you_ feel it's appropriate, you shouldn't say anything," she responded. And then she turned to Suzaku with a smile on her face. "Hello, Mr. Kururugi. I'm Cecile Croomy, Lloyd's assistant."

Suzaku nodded, a bit unnerved that the woman's mood could change so fast. "Hi."

"Yes, yes, introductions all around! But back to what I was saying before, I truly believe that your body could greatly contribute to science! If you would just-"

"He wants you to be a guinea pig for his experiments," Cecile explained flatly.

"Experiments?" Suzaku repeated, puzzled.

"Yes! I am a scientist!" Lloyd informed him cheerfully.

"Oh...but, if you don't mind me asking si-Lloyd, why are you directing the opera then? Suzaku asked.

"What is music if not a science? It's a numerical organization of sounds that, depending on the tone, invokes an emotional response from the human brain! I find it all fascinating!" Lloyd answered, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

Suzaku had never really thought about it that way, but the man was right. However, hearing music referred to in that manner, dissected into numbers and biological responses, stirred a deep wrongness in his heart. It was so much more than that!

"But you disagree, don't you," Lloyd said, glasses gleaming knowingly. "You're one of those sensitive types. I don't suppose you're a musician as well, Kururugi?"

Suzaku shook his head sadly. "No. I've tried, but...I guess I just don't have a knack for that sort of thing."

"A pity," Lloyd sighed. "Well, I suppose you should go now, but do think over my proposal!"

Suzaku nodded. "I'll do that." Not too hard though, because it sounded a bit sketchy.

By the time he departed the director's office, the theatre was dark. Presumably all the stagehands and performers had left for dinner.

Suzaku shivered. He could feel them again. The eyes following his movements, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. This was getting ridiculous. Why would a ghost take such interest in him? He was just another stagehand, not important by any means.

Well, his teacher had always taught him that, when dealing with a problem, it was best to face it head on.

Frowning, Suzaku scaled the rafters, scanning the vast expanse of the theatre for his watcher. Nothing.

"Come out!" he called. "I know you're there!"

Something fluttered into his line of vision. Suzaku felt a pang of anxiety as he remembered the material he knew he'd seen the other day. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing for him to challenge his pursuer to reveal himself when he still didn't know exactly what he was dealing with. The thing (the Ghost?) could attack him at any given moment. It hadn't seemed violent that night in Box Five, but Suzaku could hardly judge its character based on one conversation. Suzaku swallowed, bracing himself.

A note drifted down from above, landing innocently by his feet.

Warily Suzaku picked it up, turning the envelope over in his hands and noticing with a small amount of apprehension the red wax skull that sealed the folds together. It reminded him too much of blood, which he was sure was the intention, so he quickly tore it open in order to not have to look at it any longer.

The letter was penned in red ink, from what appeared to be the hand of a young child. Suzaku likened it to his own clumsy attempts at grasping the Britannian written language. On the other hand, it was well-worded.

_S. Kururugi-_  
 _Please find Box Five available this evening for your viewing pleasure._

_Your humble and obedient servant,_  
 _O.G._

* * *

 

Against what Suzaku believed to be his better judgment, he found himself that night in Box Five as the note had politely requested. As it did the other night, the box appeared to be completely empty, and when several minutes passed and O.G. (Suzaku snorted at that ill-disguised effort to be clever) did not so much as offer a word of greeting, Suzaku became frustrated not only with the obvious trick being played on him but also at himself for allowing it to continue this long.

"I mean it now," he said, slowly, because he knew someone was there even if they were too cowardly to show themselves. He could feel those eyes on him, even now. "Stop following me."

There was a beat, and then: "I'm curious to see how you would exact that threat when you don't even know where I am."

Suzaku was not amused. Gritting his teeth, he swung a leg back over the balcony ledge. They were goading him, probably trying to make him lash out - hoping for him to destroy the box, or react in some other violent way - in order to get him fired.

"The box is unlocked," the voice said, conversationally. "As it has been since I sent your invitation. I'm sure you're aware, you must have seen the key in your angry inspection several minutes ago."

It was true. He had seen the key, and the obvious setup behind it. They wanted to frame him as the Opera Ghost.

"So I must wonder why it is you insist on putting your life in danger," the voice continued, either unaware or choosing to be unaware of Suzaku's growing anger. "Do you hope to one day fall?"

Suzaku climbed back into the box. "If you really think you can frighten me out of this theatre, you're mistaken." This was his job, and he was staying no matter what this person did to him. He wouldn't let them intimidate him.

"Frighten you?" There was a short laugh. "That was never my intention. I invited you here, did I not?"

"As a setup," Suzaku accused.

"No," the voice corrected him. "Because you enjoy _Faust_ , correct?"

Suddenly, Milly appeared on the stage, illuminated only by the gaslights at the foot of the apron. Suzaku felt a stab of panic as she stepped forward, opened her mouth and...

\--started to sing.

It was beautiful. Marguerite's aria, but never as he'd heard her sing it before. She took no notice of him, or of anything, really. It was as if she was in a trance and the only thing she knew was the music. It filled the air, made Suzaku's heart heavy in his chest. But even as the music overtook him he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Milly's eyes... there was something about her that didn't seem right.

"Where are you?" he demanded, hardly above a whisper.

Milly's voice climbed higher and higher, the song reaching its climax and then, abruptly, it stopped.

" _Brava_."

Her eyes turned to Box Five, but still she didn't seem to notice Suzaku's presence. She curtsied, blew a kiss, and if not for the red that rimmed her irises (had she been crying?) Suzaku would have thought she was back to normal.

She began another song. Suzaku recognized it as the aria from the second act of Hannibal.

"Please don't misunderstand," the voice said, and it was incredible how just the sound of it was able to calm him despite the fear that had so strongly gripped him. "You are in no danger here. I only wanted us to enjoy a private concert together."

Suzaku sighed, feeling the anxiety peel away, leaving only a peaceful contentment as the song continued to its second verse. He moved without realizing it, situating himself in one of the velvet-cushioned seats - beside the second from the left, where it was rumored the ghost himself always sat.

"Milly sings for you often?" Suzaku wondered.

"I've promised to help her career progress. Some nights she sings for me, and I give her advice on how to improve. In return, she keeps my secret."

He couldn't imagine Milly keeping anyone's secrets. "She's the only one who knows you're real?"

"And now you."

Suzaku hesitated. "... _Are_ you real?" Was this really happening? The Opera Ghost was really here, talking to him - it wasn't just a trick?

"I'm certainly not a product your imagination," said the voice, indignant.

Suzaku didn't know why that made him laugh, but it did. Maybe it was just the whole ridiculous situation. Here he was, sitting up in Box Five - the box that was never sold, no matter what - conversing with the _Opera Ghost_ , while the prima donna gave them a private concert in exchange for a vocal lesson! It was _madness_!

"Why me?" he had to ask, once his laughter - which the Ghost did not join in on - had subsided. Out of all the fascinating performers within the Opera, why would the Ghost take interest in a lowly stagehand and invite him up to his box?

The Ghost was wryly amused when it replied. "You're speaking with a disembodied voice, and that is what you want to know?"

Suzaku flushed. He'd thought it was a rather legitimate question...

"I think that is why I like you."

Suzaku laughed again. "Seems to me that you're hard up for conversation. Are you lonely?" The question slipped out before he could rein it in, and Suzaku cursed himself for asking something so personal.

There was a long pause. "...Perhaps," the voice admitted quietly.

The answer was honest, unexpectedly so, and Suzaku found himself following the voice's example. "Me too." And that in itself was surprising, because Suzaku hadn't realized he was lonely until now. As much as he loved the opera house, he couldn't help but be acutely aware that he was an intruder (ironic, considering that he had been here _first_ ). There was Rivalz of course, but Suzaku had never felt as if he could really talk to him. Not about anything that mattered.

"Maybe we could keep each other company, sometimes?" Suzaku suggested, without thinking or really knowing why.

"I'd like that," the voice answered, after a brief silence.

Somehow, Suzaku knew that the Opera Ghost was smiling.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Fire_Rose17** : _This is the end of the first chapter. Updates should be fairly regular, since we're actually ahead a few chapters. Unless we hit collective writer's block. I'm sure **LawlipOp** would say something too, but I really want to post this, and I don't want to wait for her to come online. Sorry, **Lawli**!_
> 
> _Please review! We love to hear what you think!_


	2. How Young and Innocent We Were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Lawli:** :D Yay, we are so happy to see all the positive feedback Chapter One received! I saw the PotO musical's sequel, Love Never Dies, at the movies on Wednesday... it was so amazing and it got me really eager to work on this story and post chapter two. (Everyone look out for LND on DVD and  _watch it_. The set alone is to die for... the theatre major in me was just gushing the entire time.)
> 
> Anyways. Glad to see so many CG fans are also Phantom fans, and for those of you who haven't seen or read PotO, don't worry you can still enjoy the story, I think. You might not get all the hidden little Phantom references we slipped in, but it shouldn't take away from anything. :)
> 
>  **Fire_Rose17:**  Yeah, those little references are basically Lawli and I being fangirls. For example, each chapter title are lyrics to a song from the musical. Chapter one was from Angel of Music,chapter two is Think of Me. I honestly don't have anything more to say right now, so please enjoy the story!
> 
> * * *

**Chapter Two**

**How Young and Innocent We Were**

Suzaku had come to the conclusion that this was possibly the weirdest friendship known to man.

It wasn't just that, even after meeting up every night for two weeks, he still had yet to actually  _see_  his companion. It was also the fact that, while they talked about many things, the Ghost never once revealed anything about himself or how he came to haunt the Avalon Opera. Suzaku considered this highly unfair, because the Ghost was  _always_ asking him questions, ranging from highly personal ("What is your family like?" "They're dead") to trivial ("What's your favorite color?" "Uh... blue?")

"What's your name?" Suzaku asked one evening.

There was a brief pause, and then: "Why do you want to know?"

Suzaku scowled. He hated when the ghost answered a question with a question.

"You know my name," he pointed out. "Why can't I know yours? I can't keep calling you "Ghost" all the time."

Another pause that Suzaku had come to recognize as a stall for time.

"Call me...Zero," was the hardly-satisfying response he finally received.

"You just made that up now!" Suzaku accused. "And besides, "Zero"? As in nothing? How is that any better than Ghost?"

"You wanted to know what you could call me," the voice replied, amused. "Zero fits."

Suzaku rolled his eyes. "Fine,  _Zero_. I should get going. I have to get up early tomorrow."

"Don't go just yet," Zero implored him. "Stay a while longer."

And there was something about his tone that made it impossible to refuse him. "All right," Suzaku consented. "Just a few more minutes."

A few more minutes became an hour, an hour became two, and before Suzaku knew it he was waking up in his bed with absolutely no idea how he had gotten there.

It wasn't the first time.

"Shit," Suzaku muttered, glancing at the rickety old clock in the corner of the room. His eyes widened. " _Shit_!"

He bolted out of bed, fumbling around in a desperate search for clean pants.

Most of the stagehands shared a room, but upon Suzaku's arrival the others (Rivalz excluded), had obstinately refused to board with the "Eleven monkey." Rather than sleep vulnerable and unprotected amongst people who made no secret of hating him, Suzaku had sought out alternative lodging.

He ended up in an old storage room, tiny and cluttered with old props, backdrops, and other odds and ends that had migrated from backstage over the years. However, there was a small, hard bed, and that was really all Suzaku needed (usually he could have gone without the bed, but he was pretty sure there were rats up here).

Retrieving his shirt from the bench of a small, horribly out of tune piano in the corner of the room, Suzaku paused briefly to look at the picture sitting where the score normally would have rested.

A stern looking man grimaced back at him, clearly uncomfortable being photographed. Showing a clear contrast, Suzaku's own childish face beamed as he held the other man's long tan fingers in his own.

 _"Ohayou gozaimasu, sensei,"_ Suzaku said, smiling nostalgically.

Kyoshiro Tohdoh had been Suzaku's martial arts teacher (back when things like that had  _mattered_ ). When Suzaku's father... passed away (and subsequently his world had fallen apart), Tohdoh had taken him in, became the closest thing to a parent he had ever known. Because, as important as she was to him, the fact remained that he no longer could remember his mother's face. And as for his father... he didn't qualify. He just didn't.

Tohdoh had died a year ago, leaving Suzaku to fend for himself. It had been a huge shock. Sensei never once mentioned that he was sick, and some part of Suzaku had honestly believed that Tohdoh would live forever.

But he barely had any time to grieve. Paying for Tohdoh's funeral and cremation (because he deserved to depart this world properly, according to Japanese tradition) had drained what little savings they had. Suzaku had needed a job, otherwise he wouldn't survive.

...And now that he had one, he was in serious danger of losing it by showing up to work over forty five minutes late.

 _Maybe no one will notice,_ Suzaku hoped fervently. After all, it wasn't as if every scene shifter was essential to rehearsal. He'd seen others ditch work countless times.

But  _they_ didn't have a stigma hanging over their heads.

"Nice of you to join us, Eleven," came the conductor's stinging greeting as Suzaku scurried up to the rafters. His call was accompanied by a chorus of snickers.

"I'm sorry, sir," Suzaku said, ducking his head in apology.

" _Sorry_ won't get the past hour back," he snapped.

"Well, you got here eventually," Lloyd said cheerfully. "Congratulations!"

He wasn't particularly sure what to say to that. "Uh...thank you?" Suzaku decided was a safe response, finally finishing his ascent. "I promise that this won't happen again."

Clovis rolled his eyes. "Don't bother. After all, what else can you expect from a lazy Eleven? It's no wonder they lost the war."

Suzaku sucked in a breath.  _Don't react. It's not worth it._ _He's_ _not worth it._

" _You,_ Clovis, are truly a product of Britannia. Never building anything of your own, just riding on the achievements of others. You must be very proud," a voice called scathingly.

Immediately, whispers sprang up, people wondering who would dare to cross Clovis.

The answer came in the form of a slender, pale young man with black hair. He was leaning against one of the set pieces further upstage, arms crossed languidly over his chest as he pinned Clovis with his violet eyes.

Clovis bristled at the insult. "You forget your place, Lelouch. As a member of the chorus, you have no right to talk to me that way."

Lelouch smirked. "We can't all buy our way to the top through daddy's money."

Clovis seethed, and was clearly about to retort, but Bartley cut him off quickly.

"W-welcome back, Lelouch. I trust your business in Kyoto went smoothly?"

"I negotiated two new financial backers," Lelouch replied. "We should be secure for some time, despite certain," he cast a pointed glance towards Clovis, "shortcomings."

Bartley nodded. "Good, good. Now, why don't you join in on rehearsal?"

Lelouch chuckled. "Very well."

At last, rehearsal resumed, the pure notes of the chorus floating up to the rafters.

But Suzaku heard none of it. His thoughts had stopped the moment he laid eyes on that boy.

_Lelouch._

* * *

_"You are music, moonbeams of music - and you are light to me..."_

_He recognized the song, though he couldn't place exactly where he had heard it from. What he did know was that it was typically sung by a woman, and for that reason alone he approached the boy with an amused grin on his face. At least, he assumed the child was a boy. As he got closer, however, it became only less clear. With the way his black hair grew to his chin it was difficult to tell for sure, and the thin cloak concealing his body didn't help at all._

_People passed them by, heedless of the child's singing - of what a great feat it was that his untrained voice could reach those notes without cracking. Suzaku was impressed by his skill, and when the boy completed the song he burst into enthusiastic applause._

_Eyes, wide and sparkling like amethysts, turned on him. The boy seemed surprised by his audience, obviously accustomed to being overlooked._

_"What are you doing?" He had a deeper voice than when he sang._

_Suzaku ignored the question. "You are a boy!" He laughed, and then watched as the boy stiffened and puffed out his chest indignantly._

_"Of course I'm a boy," he snapped._

_Suzaku gave a sheepish grin. "Well, that_ was  _a girl's song."_

_The boy sniffed. "It's actually a duet. Stupid."_

" _I guess." Suzaku politely refrained from pointing that out that he had been singing the girl's part. Instead, he glanced down at the ratty old hat in front of the boy. There was a single coin resting inside, the only recognition the boy had received for his talents. The sight of the lonely piece of metal made Suzaku feel guilty for picking on him when he clearly had a hard enough time._

_"Why are you out here singing?" he wondered, albeit from the state of the boy's clothing it was rather obvious that he was either homeless or from a family of gypsies. Though with skin so pale, Suzaku could hardly imagine him spending a great deal of time outside..._

_The boy glared at him, bending down to retrieve the hat. "None of your business. Leave me alone."_

_He began to walk away, probably to find some other street corner with hopefully more generous patrons. But he must not have known this part of town, how dangerous it could be for a Britannian child in a crumbling Japanese ghetto once the sun set. That was why Suzaku didn't allow him to take even three steps forward before calling out to him and laying a hand heavily on his shoulder._

_The boy jumped, startled, and the hat fell from his grasp. Dismayed violet eyes watched as the single coin inside rolled out into the street._

_"Ah - wait, I'm sorry - I'll get it!"_

_Without thinking Suzaku dashed into the street, stooping down as he came across the coin. That was when he heard the blare of a horn._

_Thin arms encircled him and, after several jerks, pulled him up and out of the automobile's path. Suzaku stumbled backward and, before he knew it, both he and the boy were collapsed on the curbside, the boy noticeably out of breath as a result of his effort._

_"Idiot," the boy hissed, "think about what you're doing!"_

_Suzaku blinked at him, then smiled. "I did," he said. He held out his hand, turning the palm up under the boy's nose to reveal the lost coin. "Here." Violet eyes widened, the boy speechless as Suzaku passed the coin into his hands._

_"Why would you-"_

_"I'm Suzaku," Suzaku interrupted him, turning his hand outward in the customary Britannian greeting he'd seen adults offer each other so often._

_The boy looked at his hand, then back at his face before his lips split into a small, hesitant smile. "Lelouch."_

" _Lelouch," he repeated, enjoying the musicality of those two syllables, the ease with which the foreign name rolled off his tongue. "You sing really nice."_

* * *

For two years, he'd met up with that boy almost every day. On the street, in the park, it hadn't mattered; the world was their playground. Being with Lelouch had been an escape from his oppressive household, and he had always gotten the feeling that the same held true for Lelouch, although Suzaku could never guess exactly  _what_ the young singer was escaping from.

That boy had changed, Suzaku realized as his eyes followed Lelouch throughout rehearsal. He no longer resembled a pretty little girl with a pretty little voice. He was still pale, his body slim and without definition, but no one could have mistaken him for anything other than a man. Especially when he sang. Even within the choir, his rich, even tenor rang strong and seemed to make the whole stage a little brighter.

The changes made Suzaku nervous. It had been so long since their last meeting ( _Suzaku bruised, bleeding and begging, "please don't leave me"_ ). What if he didn't remember Suzaku anymore? Or worse, what if he had been changed in ways Suzaku couldn't see? He didn't want to believe that the gentle little boy with whom he had spent the best parts of his childhood could become like the cold people who hated him and his people simply for existing, but prejudice was a powerful pull when it surrounded you.

It was getting late; all the other performers and stagehands had left for the night, but Suzaku lingered behind. Soon he would be expected for his nightly meeting with Zero, but he couldn't focus. His head spun in a whirlwind of elation, nostalgia, and fear, and it left him so distracted he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a breath against his ear. And in a light, gentle tenor:

_"You are music, moonbeams of music - and you are light to me..."_

Suzaku gasped softly and whirled around.

"You remembered!" he exclaimed, and in that split-second rush of relief he felt like crying.

Lelouch chuckled, eyes bright. "Of course. How could I forget the little boy who ran into the street for me just to save a single coin?"

Suzaku laughed as well, and he thought he may have been crying a little after all. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Neither did I," Lelouch admitted. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you up in the rafters, being harassed by  _Clovis_ of all people. You never were able to keep yourself out of trouble, were you, Suzaku?"

Thinking of a certain disembodied voice, Suzaku nodded absently. "No, I suppose not."

"We must catch up," Lelouch insisted, gripping Suzaku's hands. "I want to hear everything about you! We'll talk all night just like when we were children, and it will be as if we were never apart."

Something inside Suzaku froze. "All night?"

Lelouch's smile faltered. "...Well, I thought...maybe..." His grip fell lax. "Do you have other plans?"

Suzaku glanced up at Box Five guiltily. He thought of Zero, waiting, alone... and he thought of Lelouch, of the crumbling disappointment on his handsome face.

"No," Suzaku said decisively, and tightened his hands around Lelouch's. "No, I can't think of anyone I'd rather be with. Just...wait here for a moment?"

Lelouch's brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded. "Of course."

Reassured, Suzaku ran towards the boxes, and for once he actually used the key Zero had given him. Maybe he'd tell Lelouch about his mysterious friend eventually, but he didn't want to color their reunion with accusations of insanity.

He didn't feel the eyes on him, which meant Zero hadn't arrived yet.  _Good,_ Suzaku thought. It would be easier that way.

Digging out a crumpled piece of paper from his pants pocket, Suzaku quickly wrote out an explanation and an apology with the pencil he used when he was assembling sets. He carefully set it on the railing, for lack of a better place to put it. As long as it didn't fall below, Zero was sure to see it. At least, Suzaku hoped so. He wasn't entirely sure how his senses worked, without a body and all.

He'd be all alone tonight, Suzaku thought with a final pang of guilt. But he brushed it off. He'd never promised to spend every night with the Opera Ghost, and Lelouch was an old friend, one that he hadn't seen in years. Surely Zero would understand.

Without a second glance, Suzaku exited the box. Lelouch was waiting for him.

* * *

"I'm glad you're still singing."

They decided Suzaku's bedroom would be the safest place for them to meet. Since he roomed by himself, they didn't have to worry about anyone walking in and interrupting, or making snide comments on their discussion, so they were free to talk about whatever they wanted for as long as they wanted to.

Lelouch bombarded him with questions, demanding to know where he had been, what he had been doing all during their years apart. He barely let Suzaku answer - let alone get in a question of his own - before moving onto the next. It reminded Suzaku a lot of Zero.

He tried not to think about Zero. Whenever the opera ghost entered his mind he felt an inexplicable pang of guilt.  _Did Zero get his message? Was he upset?_ For some reason, sitting there, reminiscing on the past with Lelouch, made him feel as if he was somehow being unfaithful.

But that was ridiculous. As much of a friend as Zero had become to him in the short span of time, this was  _Lelouch_. His childhood friend, the one he'd risked his life for to save a single coin from the street. The boy he'd felt an invisible pull towards since first laying eyes on him; the boy who had helped create the happiest memories of his life, and had been there at Suzaku's lowest.

They couldn't even compare. So with that in mind, he resolutely pushed all thoughts of Zero aside and tried to focus on what Lelouch was telling him.

It was C.C. who had discovered him, singing, just as Suzaku had first seen him, on a street corner for spare change. She brought him to live at the Avalon Opera and even gave him private lessons to improve his voice.

"Bartley mentioned some kind of business trip?" Suzaku asked.

"Oh, yes. Bartley's completely inept with money, so I pretty much handle the finances. I've always been good with numbers, and C.C provided me with all the necessary education. Though honestly," Lelouch admitted, "they first took me in as a member of the fly crew."

Suzaku actually laughed at that. "And how long did that last?"

Lelouch playfully swatted at his elbow. Then he looked away, a little red in the face. "Until about the first show they had me on, when I could barely raise the grand drape."

Suzaku had to dodge a pillow this time, unable to help the fit of laughter that came with the image of Lelouch heaving at the ropes in an attempt to lift the main curtain. "So your lack of stamina hasn't changed at all." He remembered vividly how, when they were children, Lelouch always had trouble keeping up with him.

"You're just freakishly strong," Lelouch said, crossing his arms in a display of haughtiness.

Neither of them were able to keep the smiles from their faces.

The next few days were spent almost constantly in each other's company. Whenever one had spare time, they instantly sought out the other. It earned Lelouch several disapproving glances when he pulled away from a choir rehearsal to join Suzaku, whom he'd spotted eavesdropping in the wings, but he'd brushed it aside when Suzaku urged him to go back.

"Maybe this is why they haven't given you a leading role," Suzaku pointed out. "If you shirk your responsibilities..."

"I don't want a leading role," Lelouch said. When Suzaku only stared at him quizzically, he gave a casual shrug. "I have more time to spend with you this way."

Of course, Suzaku did not think he was anything worth Lelouch choosing over the advancement of his own career, but whenever he tried to say something to that effect, Lelouch only smiled at him. It was frustrating, to say the least, and it made Suzaku feel extremely guilty whenever they spent time together. He felt bad enough already about spending less time with Zero lately, now he had the added weight of holding Lelouch back on his conscience too.

But it still didn't stop them from seeing each other. Lelouch showed Suzaku all around the theatre - the prop closets and costume rooms, even secret rooms Suzaku didn't know existed. Most of them held nothing of interest, old set pieces that had been deconstructed or broken instruments left to collect dust, but some actually looked as if they were passageways to somewhere else.

"Maybe the underground lair," Lelouch snickered when Suzaku wondered aloud where they might lead.

"What lair?"

"You know." When Suzaku only stared blankly back at him, Lelouch wiggled his fingers emphatically. "The  _ghost's_."

Suzaku's eyes widened. He caught himself before he could accidentally slip Zero's name. The last thing he needed was to go blabbing to Lelouch about how he and the Opera Ghost were friends; even to his own ears it sounded crazy. Instead, he swallowed and looked away. "You... believe in the Opera Ghost?"

Lelouch snorted. "Of course not. It's just an old story. The only reason the management hasn't quashed it is because of the publicity it brings. Everyone wants to believe they've seen the ghost." Suzaku kept his gaze down, afraid Lelouch might discover his secret just by looking at him. But Lelouch didn't notice, he just kept going - the story of the ghost one that obviously irritated him. "I mean, can you believe some of the things those chorus girls come up with? A  _death's head_ , they say it has! It's complete rubbish."

Suzaku didn't know anything about a death's head. As far as he knew, Zero was only a voice, so he too questioned the validity of anyone claiming to have spotted the ghost. "Why do you think he has a lair underground?" If he had no physical body, wouldn't Box Five be more than enough to accommodate Zero?

"Perhaps he really is so ugly he has to live underground to avoid frightening the Opera's patrons!" Lelouch rolled his eyes and scoffed at the mere idea.

Suzaku gave an uncertain laugh and quickly changed the subject. But privately he wondered how Zero was doing, if he was lonely up in Box Five or if he really did have a secret lair within the theatre to escape to...

"What are you thinking?" Lelouch asked.

Suzaku blinked. "Oh...nothing."

"You're a terrible liar," Lelouch replied playfully. "Sometimes you get this faraway look in your eyes, and suddenly it's like you've gone somewhere else and can't see me anymore."

"Lelouch...I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

Lelouch laughed. "I don't care how far you go, Suzaku, as long as I'm the one you come back to."

* * *

_There were days when Suzaku never seemed to want to go home. He would stay with Lelouch for hours, until the streets were dark and barren._

_"It's okay," Suzaku would insist. "No one's waiting for me."_

_Lelouch knew that couldn't be true, because Suzaku's clothes were well made, and he always seemed to have money when they needed it. Rich people were always missed in one way or another, but Suzaku didn't talk about it, so Lelouch never asked._

_And sometimes, Suzaku would show up with bruises on his arms, legs, and at one point around his neck. He'd laugh them off, ("You should see the other guy!"), but Lelouch couldn't help but notice that some branched in long tendrils, imprinted hands far too large for another child._

_But the worst Lelouch had ever seen Suzaku was on one summer evening. Suzaku hadn't shown at the regular time for their meeting, and Lelouch ended up waiting for hours, worried because Suzaku had never stood him before._

_It wasn't until long after nightfall, just when Lelouch was about to leave, that he finally spotted Suzaku._

_At first, he hadn't recognized the small, hunched over figure, moving in a languid manner so unlike Suzaku's usual energetic semi-trot. But then the familiar face was illuminated by moon and gaslight, and Lelouch had to stifle a gasp._

_The entire right side of Suzaku's face was painted ghastly shades of black, purple and yellow, one emerald eye swollen shut. A too small bandage nestled amongst chestnut curls, flat and clumped together with dried blood. Finger bruises peppered bare skin, trailing up and disappearing into fabric._

_Suzaku smiled, wincing slightly when the action disturbed muscles best left alone. "You're still here." He walked forward (not walking, Lelouch realized._ _**Limping** _ _). "I'm glad."_

_"Suzaku...what? Wait here, I'll go get help!" Lelouch promised, but Suzaku grabbed his hand._

_"Don't leave me!" he begged. "Please, just...stay."_

_Lelouch looked into pleading eyes, and was startled to see the glistening of repressed tears. He'd never once seen Suzaku cry before._

_Lelouch nodded slowly, giving the hand a small squeeze. "All right, I'll stay. I'll stay for as long as you need me."_

_He guided Suzaku to a park bench, and they sat down, Lelouch's arms around Suzaku while the boy rested his head on Lelouch's shoulder._

_"Sing me something, Lelouch," Suzaku whispered._

_"What would you like to hear?" Lelouch asked._

_"I don't care. Anything. Just sing," Suzaku said._

_So Lelouch sang._

_"No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you."_

_Suzaku smiled, this time without pain, and closed his eyes._

_"Let me your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you."_

_At last, tears fell from closed eyelids, and Lelouch tightened his grasp around his friend. They sat like that long after the song fell silent._

_"Suzaku," Lelouch whispered, combing his fingers through the boy's hair, "who did this to you?"_

_Suzaku pulled himself out of Lelouch's grasp. "It's late. I should go."_

_Lelouch grabbed Suzaku's arm, only loosening his grip slightly when the boy winced in pain. "Who did this to you? And don't try to tell me that you got into some accident or childish squabble."_

_"Just drop it, Lelouch," Suzaku pleaded._

_"I won't!" Lelouch said, eyes flashing. "Someone hurt you! I refuse to just turn a blind eye!"_

_"You don't know what you're talking about!" Suzaku yelled._

_It was the first time Suzaku ever raised his voice to Lelouch, and the shock was enough to render the boy silent._

_Suzaku's face softened. "I'm sorry, Lelouch. There's nothing you can do." Nothing_ _**anyone** _ _could do._

_"Just tell me," Lelouch begged_

_"I can't," Suzaku said. "Please don't ask me anymore."_

_Lelouch shook his head. "But Suzaku-"_

_The Japanese boy pulled Lelouch into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered, "for everything."_

_The embrace was too short, and soon Suzaku was pulling away again. He gave his friend a final half smile. "Good night, Lelouch."_

_Lelouch didn't have time to answer before the boy disappeared into the darkness._

_It was the last time they would ever see each other. Or so they thought._

* * *

_He sees mist, swirling mist upon an ominous black lake. In the distance, music - an organ, manipulated with such fine mastery that his entire being throbs. It is almost painful, the pleasure that comes just from listening to it. It pulls at his heartstrings, makes him yearn for more, but the lake proves far too great an obstacle. There is no boat with which for him to travel safely to the other side, and he dares not swim the murky depths._

_The mist begins to clear as the organ stops, and he can vaguely make out a human form on the opposite bank. The shadow turns, a cloak fluttering with the slow, deliberate movement. Two piercing red eyes peer out from the hood of the cloak, so vibrant in color they seem to glow in the surrounding darkness. They lock on him, and while the intensity of the gaze makes him want to bolt towards the nearest exit he is rooted in place, unable to look away._

_Those eyes sweep over him, a caress he swears he can feel as distinctly as any physical touch, ghosting over his shoulders, down his chest. It takes his hand. He trembles. He wants more. How is this possible?_

_Something brushes his bangs from his eyes. A deep voice whispers in his ear._

_"Suzaku."_

_He opens his mouth, but he can't form words. It feels as if there are arms around him, constricting, forcing the air out of his lungs. He can't breathe._

_"Suzaku."_

_The world goes dark._

* * *

The sheets were drenched in sweat. Suzaku breathed heavily, gaze flicking about the room to locate an invisible presence. He could  _still_ feel those eyes on him. It was unnerving, but a familiar sensation - that of his every move being watched. Suzaku had the sudden, inexplicable desire to see Lelouch. Lelouch, calm and levelheaded, with his warm eyes and warmer arms... He would know exactly what to say, how to rationalize Suzaku's dream as a mere product of his imagination and thus nothing to feel such residual terror over.

But Lelouch was not there. He was in the communal dorm shared by the choir boys, most likely still asleep (performers often slept in late) and blissfully unaware of Suzaku's inner turmoil.

Suzaku pulled the sheets up to his chin as if that would make him invisible to that ever-watchful presence and rolled onto his side.

That was when he noticed the note.

His name, as always, was inscribed on the envelope in blood-red ink. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of fear down his spine.

It was Zero. He had been here, in Suzaku's room - but when? Was he still there now? Was it his eyes Suzaku felt - was it his eyes in the dream?

Suzaku recalled the eyes from his dream, glowing faintly red through the clearing fog, burning into him - accusing, loathing, but adoring...

With great trepidation he opened the note.

_S. Kururugi,_

_I find myself disappointed. I had not thought your attentions were so fickle, but perhaps after all you are no different than Clovis and the other fools poisoning this establishment._

_If you cannot be bothered to do so yourself, please return my key care of C.C._

_\- O.G._

A mixture of self-loathing and guilt coupled with the fear gripping his heart. Zero was abandoning him. He'd disappointed the Ghost - he'd been an unfaithful friend, broken Zero's trust after they'd become so close - and now Zero wanted nothing more to do with him.

He dressed in a rush, running out the door with his shirttails only half tucked in. Blessedly, the theatre was empty when he arrived, it being far too early for a scheduled rehearsal or even for the other crew members to rouse themselves from sleep. That left him completely alone, unless the Ghost...

"Zero," he whispered. There was no response, but he could feel Zero's presence. That calmed him somewhat. Zero hadn't deserted him completely; maybe there was still a chance to earn his forgiveness. Slowly he crossed the threshold of Box Five, but he didn't sit down - didn't know if that would further anger the Ghost he wanted so desperately to appease.

"I'm sorry," he tried again. Just because Zero wouldn't answer didn't mean he couldn't talk. "I left you a note." But maybe Zero never received it. "I'd hoped you would understand." But could he really? He was a ghost; did he experience a wide range of human emotions? Could Suzaku really expect him to understand the overwhelming happiness that came from seeing Lelouch again, after all the years of separation? "You wouldn't believe-"

_"Insolent boy!"_

Suzaku jumped. He really hadn't expected a response. He'd been ready to just apologize and ask for forgiveness, and when that didn't come he would humbly return the key Zero had entrusted him with and leave, and that would be the end of their strange relationship. This violent anger fit nowhere within his imagined realm of possibility, and so Zero's enraged voice caught him completely off guard, made him tremble like a small animal in the face of an unknown predator.

"Lelouch Lamperouge."

Suzaku's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't told Zero anything about Lelouch, how could he possibly know...?

"This is my theatre. Nothing escapes my sight within these walls. No-one escapes my notice." Zero's voice was dark, menacing in a way Suzaku had never heard it before. It served as a reminder to Suzaku just how little he knew about the Ghost. Was it possible that Zero could hurt him - or worse, hurt someone else - if provoked enough?

He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Lelouch is... a friend." He didn't know if Zero even wanted to hear an explanation, but he gave one anyways. Because he'd thought they were friends, and so he would expect Zero to understand how much this meant to him. "My oldest friend. When we were children, he and I would always play together and he... he saved me." He was who he was today because of Lelouch; Suzaku firmly believed that.

Zero did not seem convinced. "A mediocre talent, though he lacks the work ethic to excel as anything beyond a choir boy."

Suzaku frowned. He'd gotten on Lelouch's case about his skipping rehearsals, but it was hardly the Ghost's place to be voicing opinions about such things. Zero didn't  _know_ Lelouch - his dreams and aspirations, what made him happy. Suzaku didn't really know any of those things either, he realized with a slight pang of guilt, but the difference was that he wanted to learn. More than anything he wanted to know Lelouch - wanted to be a part of his future.

"He's lazy," Zero was saying. "Content to let others work for him, using his looks and charm to get out of trouble."

"That's not-"

"That's  _exactly_ the type of man he is," Zero hissed. "A slave of fashion, a manipulator... He's had the world handed to him because he's handsome and because of that, he neglects his responsibilities-"

"You don't know him at all!"

Suzaku froze, surprised by his own outburst. His face flushed and he took a step back, instantly knowing he'd overstepped his boundaries and yet... Yet he did not regret saying it. Even if Zero hated him, Suzaku could not just stand there and allow him to slander Lelouch's name.

He took a deep breath, clenching his fists. "Lelouch isn't... his life hasn't been easy." Suzaku could only assume so. He didn't exactly know about Lelouch's home life - they'd never spoken of it as children, but a boy with an easy life didn't go singing on street corners for money. "And he has more talent than anyone in this theatre."

"That's highly debatable. And the fact remains..."

Suzaku shook his head, not about to listen to anything Zero had to say. He was furious that the Ghost was criticizing Lelouch, making assumptions about someone he didn't even know - someone who was a good person, whom Suzaku cared about more than anyone. It was almost as if he was  _jealous_!

"Lelouch is my friend," he repeated his statement from earlier. "He's always been there for me." Suzaku remembered that night Lelouch waited for him well past dark, held him, sang to him and somehow made everything seem as if it would be okay, even when before it felt as if the world as he'd known it had shifted irreparably. That night it was Lelouch who kept him alive; Lelouch's arms and Lelouch's voice...

Before Suzaku knew it he was at the door of Box Five. It was Zero's who called him back, that deep voice washing over his senses, making him blink hazily and wonder why he was trying to leave in the first place. Zero's voice was so soothing, impossible to just disregard.

"Stay."

Suzaku hesitated by the door, glancing over his shoulder.

_"Stay with me, Suzaku."_

He wanted to. Why did he want to? He was angry at Zero, but the yearning in his heart to take his usual seat in Box Five and let everything return to normal was almost impossible to ignore.

Almost.

Green eyes blinked, then sharpened. "You have no right to try and control how I spend my time, or who I spend it with." With that, he tossed the key to the floor and exited Box Five without looking back.

* * *

Zero stared at the little silver key in utter shock. Suzaku...Suzaku had left him...for that  _fop_!

The night he had found that little scrap of paper sitting innocently on the railing of Box Five, with the simple script-

_Going to spend my night with a friend. Sorry._

_Suzaku_

_-_ he had felt mostly disbelief. Mostly because Zero hadn't been aware Suzaku  _had_ friends. There was that other stagehand, Rivalz, but he was more of an acquaintance. Certainly not someone Suzaku would stand him up for.

Disbelief soon gave way to anger, freezing the blood in his veins and demanding to know who  _dared_ monopolize Suzaku's time from him. It had to be a newer addition to the Opera; most everyone else in were either hostile towards foreigners, or simply in such a different circle that they would never have a chance to interact with him.

Finding out was no great challenge. He had simply broken into the manager's office (as he had done countless times in the past), and skimmed through the employee files. After a cursory inspection, Zero had landed on Lelouch Lamperouge.

The file was thin, containing very little about the boy's personal history. Listening to the gossip amongst the ballerinas and chorus girls was far more telling. From what he'd garnered, Lelouch Lamperouge was the bane of Bartley's existence. His rehearsal attendance was sketchy at best, and at worst nonexistent. Apparently, there were days when the boy just didn't show up at all, and then wandered back into the theatre, sometimes as much as a week later as if nothing had happened. He also had a tendency to gamble with the stagehands. And, if the girlish giggling and blushing faces were any indication, he was exceptionally attractive.

No matter the talent (and Zero had to admit there  _was_ talent. He had listened to a phonetic recording of his voice), Lamperouge sounded like far more trouble than he was worth. Zero could only fathom that management kept him around for one reason. Connections.

The fact that such a lazy boy, whose voice was, at best, mediocre, had turned Suzaku's head e _nraged_ him. He despised people who skated through life, gaining everything while rightfully earning none of it.

Zero had assumed that it was a superficial friendship, only a few days old. Suzaku must have seen Lelouch and become instantly enamored with him, as the entirety of the corps de ballet seemed to be. Affection like that was easy enough to break. All he would have to do is poke enough holes in Lamperouge's facade, and Suzaku would see him for who he truly was.

But it wasn't enough to simply sever the relationship. If Suzaku could be swayed by any fop who paid him a kind word, Zero would have to take precautions to ensure that he _never_ strayed again. He wrote a curt letter expressing his disappointment and, as predicted, Suzaku had come to him, begging for forgiveness.

What he  _hadn't_ expected was Suzaku's level of devotion. It wasn't as simple as a tentative friendship formed in a short period of time. No, Suzaku and the Lamperouge boy had a _history_. Rather than accepting that Zero knew what was best for him (which he  _did_ ), Suzaku had lashed out in righteous indignation and stormed off.

Watching Suzaku's retreating back had put him in a momentary state of panic, and he had called out to him,  _demanding_ that he stay. Suzaku was not  _allowed_ to leave him.

The boy had faltered slightly, and Zero had thought that Suzaku would turn around, come back to him. Instead, he had thrown Zero's key (his  _gift_ ) to the ground, and walked out the door without sparing a single glance backward.

Zero was dumbfounded. No one had  _ever_ gone against his wishes before. If there was one thing he was confident about it was his powers of persuasion, the sound of his voice usually all it took to bend another's will. He'd always been able to convince people to see things his way... one way or another. But tonight his voice had no affect on Suzaku; he'd seen the beginnings of his control spiderweb across Suzaku's features and then, quite suddenly, it had disappeared.

It was that  _boy's_ fault Suzaku had turned against him! He'd woven a spell of his own over Suzaku, with the quite formidable power of his pretty face and charming demeanor that the  _corps de ballet_ spoke so highly of.

Zero scowled, insides twisting at the mere idea of Suzaku being so easily stolen from him. Clearly Lelouch Lamperouge was going to be a far greater problem than he had anticipated.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lawli:** Yes, I will get a closing AN in this time! ...Actually, I don't really have much to say except that I love little Lelouch. - - He's my favorite.
> 
>  **Fire_Rose17:** Really? My favorite is Suzaku, but I do have a special place in my heart for Lelouch. And I didn't exclude you on purpose, I swear.
> 
> We beseech thee for reviews!
> 
>  **Lawli:**...well of course I love Suzaku too, he's my favorite as an adult. But as kids... Lelouch is just such a brat I can't help but love him. And suuure you didn't. ;P
> 
> Yes, please review!


	3. The Voice Which Calls to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persephone1: This chapter is being posted to celebrate Lawli and I getting through chapter five (we like to keep a couple chapters ahead). We were suffering from collective writer's block, and it took medication to get through it. It's still being a bit of a problem child, actually, but LawilPop and I will definitely get through it. But this is chapter three, from the good old days when the story actually liked its parents. Do you remember that, Lawli?
> 
> Lawli:Ah yes, it's innocent adolescence... Now it's a teenaged brat who hates us. :( But now we know the secret to parenting is prescription meds, and I have plenty of those left over from my surgery, so we're ready for it.
> 
> While we have a second... just want to point out that while this is a historical fic in terms of setting, not everything is going to be historically accurate. We've tried to do our research to make it as accurate as possible, but at the end of the day it takes place in the alternate CG universe of Britannia-occupied Japan anyways, so not everything is textbook. Savvy?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter! :) And if you're feeling kind and generous, please leave a review on the way out!
> 
> Chapter Title: From the song "The Phantom of the Opera". Yes, there is a song named after the musical.

A week passed, during which Suzaku held his breath, just waiting for a note to flutter down from the rafters or to feel eyes on his back. But Zero made no attempt to contact him, or even make his presence known to Suzaku at all. He couldn't  _feel_ Zero, and the theatre seemed oddly silent without him.

Perhaps he was biding his time. That thought worried Suzaku more than anything - made him triple, quadruple-check set pieces and curtains to ensure no accidents happened. Was it possible Zero would try and hurt the cast - hurt Lelouch (it was always Lelouch whom Suzaku watched from high above the stage, nervous of a mysterious tragedy befalling him) - just to get back at him? He hadn't thought Zero would be so petty...but their last encounter had made realize just how little he knew the phantom.

But nothing of that sort happened, either. Life at the Avalon Opera went on as normal, with the only acts of terror being Clovis's interpretation of the music. It was as if Zero had vanished, Suzaku's rejection enough to erase his existence entirely. Or maybe he'd never really existed in the first place.

Whatever the reason, Suzaku felt strangely... lonely. Even with Lelouch almost constantly at his side, he missed the familiarity of Zero's presence, and their late night conversations. Without him, there was a gaping hole in Suzaku's heart that nothing seemed to be able to fill. And it did not go unnoticed.

"You're very distant lately," Lelouch said one evening after supper, concern in his eyes. "Did something happen?"

_Yes_ , Suzaku wanted to say;  _I think I may have done something terrible._ But Lelouch was the last person he could confide his secret to. Intelligent Lelouch, who scoffed at the idea of the Opera Ghost... Suzaku could never tell him that he had actually met him, conversed with him - had a relationship (odd though it may have been) - with him and now... missed him dreadfully.

Lelouch waited expectantly. Suzaku merely shook his head. "It's... complicated."

And it  _was_. Because part of him was still so angry, and it warred with the part that longed to see Zero again.

"Is it Clovis?" Lelouch's eyes narrowed in distaste. "Trust me, everyone here is expendable and it would do the bastard some good to learn a bit of humility. Don't be afraid to speak out against him if he's being cruel to you, Suzaku."

"That's not it at all," Suzaku hastened to assure him. "Please, Lelouch, it's... it's really nothing. Let's just forget about it."

Lelouch did not appear convinced but he was wise enough not to press the issue further. Suzaku smiled gratefully at him, and Lelouch returned to perusing his libretto.

With Hannibal approaching its closing week, the Opera's next production had already begun rehearsing. It was a comedic piece, something to lighten the somber mood from Hannibal as they headed into the joyful winter season, and most unexpectedly Lelouch had been assigned a leading role. It was C.C. who promoted him, amber eyes agleam as she passed him his script.

"This should be interesting," she'd said, laughing when Lelouch discovered just what leading role it was.

"Fop Two.  _Fop_   _Two_!" With an aggravated growl, Lelouch threw the libretto to the floor.

"It's not so bad." And it really wasn't. The fops were the most entertaining characters in  _Il Muto,_  providing humorous commentary on the storyline throughout the performance. But Suzaku supposed it was the mere idea that insulted Lelouch: being cast as Fop  _Two_  and not Fop  _One._ With a soft laugh, Suzaku stooped down and retrieved the script. "Everyone has to work their way to the top," he said as Lelouch begrudgingly took the papers back.

"I don't want to be at the top," Lelouch mumbled, eyes skimming through the score. "I just want..." He hesitated then decided against the words. "Well, it doesn't matter."

There was a brief silence. Then, Suzaku took a seat next to Lelouch on the rickety old bed. "If it helps, I think you'll do great."

And Suzaku's voice was so earnest, the look on his face so hopeful and adoring, Lelouch couldn't help it; his expression softened. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted." Suzaku blinked. Lelouch quirked a smile. "Am I so flamboyant?"

"No!" Suzaku's face colored brightly with embarrassment. "It was meant to be a compliment!"

With a chuckle, Lelouch reached over to ruffle Suzaku's hair, in effect making Suzaku blush even darker. Their eyes met, and Lelouch's touch slowly became less of a brotherly tease and more of an actual caress, fingers brushing through coarse hair.

Suzaku couldn't explain why, but his heart skipped a beat.

* * *

Despite his less than enthusiastic response to the appointment, Lelouch displayed a surprising level of commitment to the role of Fop Two. He would practice for hours, and when he wasn't singing his lines he was humming them. It was getting to the point where Suzaku, who was often enlisted as Lelouch's audience during these impromptu rehearsals, knew the lines almost as well as Lelouch did.

Suzaku was happy that Bartley was finally recognizing his friend's talents, but Lelouch's new work schedule didn't afford Suzaku much time to spend with him. Lelouch tried to talk to him between rehearsals, but he was inevitably pulled away for some reason or another, not to mention that Suzaku was busy with his own work.

" _This_ is why I didn't want a leading role," Lelouch lamented. "Your entire life ends up revolving around your character, to the point where you don't know where the role ends and the person begins. I prefer the anonymity of the chorus."

Suzaku laughed. "You were bored silly as a choir boy and you know it. You didn't skip rehearsals because you were lazy, you did it because they weren't enough of a challenge."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "Fop Two is hardly a challenge."

Suzaku sighed. "What happened to you? You used to love singing so much. When we were kids, you eyes would light up with the music."

Lelouch blushed. "That was different. I was singing for  _you_. Now it's just work."

"That's not true. I love your voice more than anything else. In a way, you're always singing for me because I'm always listening," Suzaku said, smiling.

Lelouch flushed even brighter. "Suzaku-"

"Lulu! Lloyd wants you back on stage!" a girl, who Suzaku recognized as another member of the chorus, called. She was playing Serafimo, the page boy who was the Countess's (Milly's) lover (a role Lelouch reluctantly admitted to playing more than once). The character was mostly silent, but it was still a big opportunity for a formerly unknown background singer.

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. " _Lulu?_ "

The glare Lelouch sent his way made it clear that Suzaku shouldn't repeat the girl's form of address. "I'll be there in a minute, Shirley."

"Lloyd wants you  _now_ ," Shirley responded, exasperatedly seizing his arm and dragging Lelouch upstage.

Lelouch shrugged and mouthed an apology to Suzaku as the chorus girl pulled him away.

She was very pretty, with red hair and olive green eyes, and she made a nice picture standing against Lelouch. They looked as if they belonged together, and Suzaku couldn't understand why that thought made him so inexplicably bitter.

"Jealousy is a terrible thing, isn't it?" C.C. remarked from behind him. "Capable of turning the most respectable people into complete monsters."

"I should go back to work now," Suzaku answered, not wanting to ponder the woman's seemingly random statement, but C.C. grabbed his shoulder in a surprisingly solid grip.

"Stay. You won't get in trouble if you are with me. I need to talk to you, Kururugi."

"About what?" Suzaku asked with a feeling of foreboding.

C.C. smirked. "You know about what."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Suzaku replied flatly.

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. You think I don't know about the little trysts you've shared with our resident ghost? Nothing goes on here without my knowledge," C.C. said.

Suzaku sighed. "What do you want?"

"I  _want_ our dear phantom to stop sulking in your absence. He has no one, you see; which makes me the only one he can unload his feelings on. I cannot express how annoying this is," C.C. replied, rolling her eyes.

"Are you friends with him?" Suzaku asked, for some reason not surprised that Zero would keep such company.

"I wouldn't say  _friends,_ exactly. We're accomplices born out of mutual benefit," C.C. said.

"What kind of benefit?" Suzaku asked suspiciously.

C.C. put a finger up to her lips. "The terms of our contract is strictly confidential. You understand."

"Do you have any idea  _why_ I stopped speaking to him?" Suzaku demanded.

"Of course. Didn't I tell you? I know everything," C.C. replied dryly. "He insulted your childhood friend. But do  _you_ have any idea why he reacted that way?"

Without waiting for a response, C.C. continued, "He has never had a friend before. He has been alone for his entire existence save for me, and as I've already mentioned, I am hardly enjoyable company. Think about what you felt when you watched Lelouch go off with that girl. Now imagine that you're watching the only one who ever showed you friendship leaving you behind, with no prior social experience to dictate how you should act. What would you do, boy?"

Suzaku had never thought about it before. He had always known that Zero was alone, but he had never considered how that would color the way he handled relationships. How lonely he must have been when Suzaku had abruptly left him for someone else, with only a tiny scrap of paper given as warning.

"So you're telling me to forgive him?" Suzaku asked a bit helplessly.

C.C. chuckled. "I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm merely giving you something to think about. For both your sakes."

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "And how is this for my sake?"

"Because you miss him," C.C. said simply.

And Suzaku couldn't deny her statement, because it was the truth.

"...Give him a message for me?" Suzaku asked.

C.C. nodded, seemingly amused.

"Tell him that...I can't guarantee anything, but if he wants to talk to me, I'm at least willing to listen," Suzaku said hesitantly.

"I'll tell him," C.C. assured him.

And as he watched C.C. walk away, skirts swishing behind her, Suzaku received the odd premonition that, for better or for worse, those words had somehow changed his life forever.

* * *

Suzaku dreamt of music. Gentle, seductive music that caressed him like a lover, and a beautiful voice that called to Suzaku without words, beckoning him forward.

Stiffly, like a mouse following the pipe of his master, Suzaku rose out of bed. In his dreamy state of half-consciousness, he paused briefly to slip on a pair of pants, more out of deeply ingrained habit than a feeling of necessity, and then he left his room, still shirtless.

He wandered down the hall without sight or direction, but he didn't need them. The voice guided him, tender and coaxing, and it would lead Suzaku home.

Suzaku barely noticed when the floor surface changed to cool, moist stone, and cold air brushed against his unprotected back. It was impossible to see in the darkness that stretched beyond gaslight's reach, but Suzaku's eyes, while glazed, were still sharp, his gait surefooted, and the voice would never let him stumble.

The sudden assault of light was what pulled Suzaku out of his dream sonata. The primitive torchlight burned against his pupils, and Suzaku blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots of light and fantasy as he looked around him for the first time.

"Wha-?"

The room was massive.

It reminded Suzaku of a tomb, a vast darkness that seemed to stretch an eternity in every direction but at the same time closed in around him, suffocating. The air was musky and hard to breathe but he kept going, lulled by perfumed incense and the glow of torches.

As he'd seen in his dreams, there was a man made lake, it's dark waters immeasurable by the naked eye. From within it's depths rose great candelabras. But even the heat generated from the many surrounding flames was not enough to warm the perpetually cold space. No natural light could ever reach this chasm, and Suzaku was forced to wrap his arms around himself as he travelled further, along the bend of the lake to the main room.

An organ sat upon a dais, flanked on either side by thick velvet drapes that separated the room from yet another. Candlesticks around the organ illuminated the mess of papers strewn across its keys and the small desk beside it. Suzaku recognized the tiny wooden model on the desk as a replica of the Avalon Theater. Curious, he approached.

The theatre was not the only thing replicated. There were figurines as well, each hand-carved and roughly three inches tall. Suzaku was able to pick out Milly and Clovis among the hand-painted faces. Kallen too. Trepidation curled in the pit of his stomach as he picked up the Kallen figure, complete with cropped red hair and perfect pirouette.

As he set the figure back in its place upon the stage, he accidentally knocked his hand against the proscenium arch. Another figure fell onto the stage, one Suzaku hadn't noticed initially. It had been hidden up in the miniature rafters, a three-inch man with painted brown hair and jewel-green eyes. A dimple on his right cheek.

It was him, unmistakably.

_Someone has way too much time on their hands_ , Suzaku thought dimly. Questions ran through his mind, why's, and how's, and where the hell am I's, but as if in answer to his muddled thoughts, Suzaku felt the telltale prickle on the back of his neck, and he sighed softly, somehow neither frightened nor surprised.

"You might as well say something," Suzaku said quietly. "I always know when you're there."

"C.C said that you would be willing to listen...?"

Suzaku had never heard Zero sound so timid before, hesitantly choosing his words to avoid a volatile reaction. It was a remarkable contrast to the confident, booming voice he was used to, and some part of him couldn't believe he had reduced the proud phantom to such a state.

Suzaku sighed again. "Yes, but when I said that, I didn't expect you to kidnap me."

"I didn't kidnap you!" Zero insisted indignantly. "You came on your own accord."

"Then how  _did_ I get here?" Suzaku demanded. It was true, he had come on his own. But why? He could only dimly remember his passage, being pulled forward by an irresistible compulsion, as if it was all a figment of a distant dream. "I...I heard singing. But who-"

"Do you like my lair?" Zero interjected. "No one in their wildest dreams could imagine such a place exists within the bowels of the Opera."

Eyes darting around the room once again, Suzaku shrugged. "It's...nice." It kind of reminded him of his room in a way, a graveyard of old Opera relics, only Zero had creatively repurposed them as decorative fixtures. The cavern did possess its own dark, cold beauty, but even as Suzaku stood there, he felt a longing for warmth and light.

But he didn't want to offend his host, particularly when he was most likely the only one who knew the way out, so Suzaku changed the subject. "I did say I would listen, so talk."

A moment's pause, clear hesitation. "I...I didn't like that you were with that boy."

Suzaku snorted. "I noticed."

"Perhaps I overreacted, but  _you_ were the one who left me with barely a word," Zero accused.

"I already apologized for that!" Suzaku snapped. "Did you want me to prostrate myself and say that my soul was weak, forgive me?"

"What I  _want_ is for you to stay away from Lamperouge!" Zero shot back, bristling from Suzaku's sarcasm.

"As well as everyone else! Are you so afraid of being left behind that you're trying to control my entire life, isolate me until the only one I have left is  _you_?" Suzaku demanded, angrily slashing his arm out, as if seeking to strike his invisible opponent.

What he hit instead was a music box, and as it fell to the ground, the lid popped open, and the air was filled with soft, tinkling music. Familiar music...

_"Would you like to play with Mama, Suzaku?"_

_Suzaku, all of two, giggled and nodded, his tiny hands descending on the keys, notes ringing out in a discordant rhythm._

_"Good job, little one," the woman said, laughing._

_Suzaku pouted, banging his fists on the keys in clear frustration. "No like Mama."_

_Warm hands covered his own, pulling them gently from the keys. "Mama's been playing for a long, long time. One day, I'll teach you too," his mother assured him._

_"Like Mama?" Suzaku asked hopefully, pointing at the keys._

_The woman ruffled Suzaku's hair. "Yes, just like me."_

"The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes."

Suzaku blinked, distorting the dusty shades of the past. "What?"

"Whenever you listen to music, you get this look in your eyes as if you can see the notes in the air before you in all their beauty. Many people hear music, but you are one of the few I've seen who actually  _listens_."

Suzaku blushed. "Yeah, well...I've always enjoyed music, ever since I was a child."

"But you're always listening in the background. Haven't you ever had any interest in creating music yourself?" Zero asked.

Suzaku shook his head. "No. I tried when I was younger, but I was never any good at that." He smiled a bit bitterly. " My old tutor said my hands and body were much better suited for hard labor. And she was right."

"Nonsense," Zero scoffed. "With the proper teacher, anyone can create music."

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering?"

"Maybe...if you'd like me to?" Zero said, hesitant tone returning to his voice.

Suzaku shrugged. "They're your ears."

It was strange. He had been so angry a moment ago, almost ready to chance the black passageways just to get away, but now he felt so calm, so content. It could only be the magic of music, capable of diffusing any tense situation and endowing the listener with a sense of lighthearted peace.

"All right then. Could you sing a scale for me?" Zero asked.

Suzaku shook his head emphatically. "Oh no, I'm not singing. I'm not so cruel as to subject you to that."

"I assure you, I've heard everything from the herald of a siren to the crow of a cock. Milly's voice had all the clarity of a rusty nail before I took her under my tutelage. You needn't worry about me," Zero replied.

"If you say so," Suzaku said dubiously. He then opened his mouth and sang the directed notes.

There was a long stretch of silence.

"...Perhaps we should try the piano instead."

"Perhaps," Suzaku agreed.

He walked to the organ and sat down.

"An organ is different from a piano, but it should suit our purposes for the time being," Zero explained.

The ghost was a very patient teacher, never raising his voice or getting frustrated when Suzaku did something wrong (unlike the music instructor of Suzaku's childhood), but no matter how clear his instructions were, Suzaku couldn't get his hands to move in the correct manner or hit the right notes.

Suzaku scowled, nearly slamming on the keyboard in frustration. "I told you it was hopeless!"

"Calm down," Zero said gently. "Don't set yourself up for failure before you've even begun."

"But I  _have_ begun! So many times, I've tried, but it never matters! I'll never be able to play like my mother!" Suzaku shouted, his voice echoing eerily in the cavern.

"...Close your eyes, Suzaku," Zero said.

"What? Why?" Suzaku asked.

"You need to know what music feels like, and I can't show you that with your eyes open. Close them," Zero ordered.

Suzaku raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Okay."

He closed his eyes, sitting on the organ bench and waiting to "feel" the music, when he felt a soft weight cover his hands. Smooth, velvet fingers guided Suzaku's own across the keys, and perfect notes flittered through the air in the hands' wake. The sound was so shocking, Suzaku almost opened his eyes.

"Keep them closed," Zero whispered close to his ear.

"It's...it's music,"Suzaku murmured in wonder. Music from his own hands, creating magic in the air, and Suzaku laughed because it was the only thing that kept him from crying. "It's really music!"

"See, it's not impossible, Suzaku. Anyone has the potential to create beauty. One only needs to have a desire and a listening ear. Everything else is just a result of time," Zero said.

"Thank you," Suzaku whispered. "Truly, thank you."

"Your happiness is thanks in itself,"Zero replied, making Suzaku laugh again at such a ridiculously romantic sentiment.

The song eventually finished, and the phantom hands left Suzaku, but the boy sat on that bench for a long time, candlelight flitting across still closed eyelids as he savored the last notes.

"Lelouch is important to me," Suzaku said finally, voice quiet. "Very important. And I won't give him up, not for anyone."  _Not even you."_

The air immediately became tense as Zero prepared for another argument.

"But...you're important to me too," Suzaku admitted. "Just because I care about Lelouch doesn't mean I care about you less. It just means I have two dear friends that I don't want to lose."

"I...I understand," Zero said reluctantly, if only because he knew he would lose Suzaku otherwise.

"Good, now that's settled, do you mind if I go home now? It's freezing down here," Suzaku said, lamenting his odd decision to walk around shirtless.

Something soft and warm was draped across his back. "Of course. You may leave whenever you wish. I'll guide you out with my voice."

"You can open your eyes now," Zero added after a moments pause.

"Oh, right!" Suzaku exclaimed, opening the eyelids that, frankly, he had forgotten he had closed.

As Zero instructed him through a complicated network of twists and turns that Suzaku would never be able to remember later, he felt satisfied that he and his ghost had worked through their issues, and that it was safe to call him friend again.

But in the back of Suzaku's mind, he felt those hands again, brushing up against his. There had been an undeniable heat against his fingers, and now against his back from a cloak warmed by the body of another. What had once been a mere voice had, for a moment, a presence, a weight, and for the first time, Suzaku wondered with faint unease at just  _what_ he was dealing with.

* * *

When Suzaku awoke the next morning, there was a brief moment in which he was convinced everything that occurred the night before was nothing but a dream. Then he rolled onto his side and discovered the long-stemmed red rose beside his pillow. Warily, Suzaku picked it up, noting the way the thorns had been clipped from the stem and gently fingering the black ribbon tied at the base.

He knew it was from Zero, without even needing to read the note attached.

_"When he's pleased, he leaves a token."_

Suzaku shook his head, hardly thinking he'd done anything worth receiving a token of Zero's - what, gratitude? Approval? Suzaku really didn't understand the ghost at all. But to toss it aside would be rude, even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do with the gift, so he settled for keeping it on the bedside table. That would have to be enough; it wasn't like he kept vases in his room or anything, so there really weren't many other options.

He picked up the note, which was short as all the others he'd received from the ghost and written in that same eerie red ink.

_S. Kururugi,_

_I will see you for another lesson tonight._

_-O.G._

Before Suzaku could sort through his mixed emotions on the (command) letter - and the idea of seeing Zero again, so soon, for another music lesson - his bedroom door flew open. Suzaku jumped, stuffing the note underneath his pillow before whirling around in time to see a harried Lelouch storming into the room.

"Where have you been?"

Suzaku blinked, finding himself being grabbed roughly (well, as roughly as Lelouch could manage) by the shoulders. "Me? What are you talking about?"

"I couldn't find you at all after rehearsal," Lelouch said, pinning him with a glare and making Suzaku wonder why it was he couldn't go a day without someone being angry at him. "And then later I snuck up here to see if you were all right, and you were gone!"

Lelouch came to check on him? It was strangely flattering.

"Were you off with a  _girl_?"

Lelouch's voice tensed at that and it - along with the accusation - was not very pleasant. Suzaku rose from the bed, shrugging out of Lelouch's hold. "That's not really your business," he said. "Though I'm not sure why you would even think that... You're the one getting close with all the chorus girls."

Violet eyes widened. "That's - what are you talking about?"

"Serafimo," Suzaku pointed out, recalling how closely Lelouch and the pretty redhead had been standing during rehearsal. He couldn't see why Lelouch would be accusing him of sneaking around with girls, when the redhead and plenty of other members of the chorus were giving him  _the eyes_ all day long.

" _Shirley_?" Lelouch snorted. "Suzaku, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not!" Or maybe he was. He remembered how he'd felt about Zero's jealousy, and even he could see that what he was doing now wasn't much different from how Zero had acted. Though Suzaku wasn't quite at the point of forbidding Lelouch to see his co-workers, the fact remained that it was getting out of hand, and Suzaku didn't even know why. It shouldn't matter if Lelouch was out with Shirley. She was pretty and sweet and talented and, in all honestly, probably a good match for him. "I just... You two looked very close yesterday."

"You're upset about that?" Lelouch's hands were on him again, but not grabbing him roughly this time around. Instead Lelouch was pulling him closer, as if to embrace him.

"Not upset, exactly..."

Lelouch smiled. "I can assure you there's nothing going on between Shirley and me," he said.

Suzaku didn't know why it was such a relief to hear that, but it was. He felt himself relaxing as Lelouch loomed closer, eyes slipping shut.

In a flash, he recalled the dark passageway that led to Zero's lair - the warm hands he could have sworn he felt on his back, guiding him, the way he'd almost thought that Zero could be a real person there behind him...

"...Is that my cloak?"

Green eyes opened and Suzaku turned to follow Lelouch's gaze. There was indeed a cloak draped over the old piano bench, but it wasn't Lelouch's. At least, Suzaku didn't think it could be. Zero had given him that cloak the night before, to shield him from the cold. "No," he insisted. "It's-"

But Lelouch had already stepped away from him, taking the cloak from the bench and holding it up to inspect it. "It is! Suzaku, I've been looking for this for  _weeks_! Where on earth did you find it?"

Suzaku didn't know what to say. He wondered if it was possible Zero stole more than just set pieces for his home beneath the theatre. But what need would a ghost have for a cloak? It didn't make sense, unless...

Suzaku's thoughts kept returning to the piano lessons, the hands he could have sworn he felt guiding his own. Human hands.

It wasn't possible. At least, Suzaku didn't want to think it was possible. If he even accepted the  _idea_ it opened up far too many other questions, ones which he didn't believe were his place to go investigating.

Lelouch said himself he'd misplaced his coat. Lelouch was careless with his belongings, as he was with his rehearsal attendance record and most other things in his life. The fact that the opera ghost managed to acquire his cloak was merely a coincidence. If Zero made a hobby of collecting lost things in the theatre, Suzaku was sure he had an entire closet full of cloaks.

At some point during his musings, Lelouch had moved on to another topic. Currently he stood beside the piano, peering through the small round window down at the city below.

"There's no rehearsal today," he said thoughtfully, smiling. "We should spend the day together."

Suzaku opened his mouth, eager at the chance to spend time with his friend, but then he remembered how thin a line he currently walked with Zero. He'd told Zero that nothing could make him give up his friendship with Lelouch, but at the same time Suzaku knew he'd been neglecting Zero. He looked to the rose on his bedside table and knew he couldn't desert him for yet another day, not when things still weren't back to normal between them.

"I have... duties around the theatre," he explained lamely, doubtful if Lelouch would even believe the lie. If there was no scheduled rehearsal, there was hardly a need for him to be up in the rafters, and he was sure the rest of the company shared the opinion that the less they saw of the 'Eleven monkey,' the better.

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "Have you learned nothing from me these past weeks?"

"Am I supposed to be learning how to shirk my responsibilities?"

They shared a moment of laughter, before Lelouch crossed the room, fastening the cloak around his shoulders as he walked. "I won't keep you long," he promised, clearly not about to take no for an answer. He took Suzaku's hands in his own. "They won't miss you for a few hours. Spend the morning with me."

He looked up, catching Suzaku's eyes, and Suzaku knew he could deny him nothing.

* * *

The morning quickly turned into afternoon, which drifted into early evening. With weather clear and cool as the city had been experiencing as of late, it was crowded outside. The market was bustling with activity, and it reminded Suzaku of the time he and Lelouch spent together as children. How often they used to wander from stall to stall, seeing the goods each merchant had on display and sometimes getting chased away for loitering and never buying anything. There was a baker's stand, the owner of which was a kindly old woman who used to tear them each a slice of bread from whatever loaves she did not manage to sell. It wasn't there anymore; Suzaku could only assume she had retired of old age, or passed away and had no one to take over the work for her.

"This is where you used to sing," Suzaku pointed out, a note of fondness in his voice that made Lelouch's cheeks turn an attractive shade of red. "Where we first met."

"Where you made me drop my coin," Lelouch replied, drawing his cloak more tightly around himself. "Yes, I remember."

"I went after it!"

"And I still think you're an idiot for doing so," Lelouch said wryly as he shook his head. "Only an idiot like you would put his life in danger for a measly coin."

Suzaku tilted his head to the side. "It wasn't the coin," he felt the need to correct his friend. "I did it for you." Because even then, after just having met Lelouch, Suzaku had felt the desire to do whatever it took to make him happy.

Lelouch stared at him for a moment, violet eyes wide and disbelieving, before he coughed distractingly and quickly averted his gaze to the floor. The blush on his face was darker now but Suzaku was polite enough not to comment on it.

They walked in silence. Out of his peripheral vision Suzaku could see Lelouch's eyes flickering toward him every few seconds, but neither of them could find a voice to say anything. Suzaku couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, but it seemed like something had changed. Their relationship was not what it had been before that conversation. It was the most infinitesimal of shifts, but undeniable all the same.

"Perhaps we should head back," Lelouch said finally. Suzaku stopped walking. Lelouch continued a few more paces forward before realizing Suzaku was no longer at his side and turning to glance back at him. He tilted his head to the side, violet eyes curious. "Suzaku?"

Realizing he was staring, Suzaku physically shook himself. "The sunset," he said. It was the first thing that came to his mind. Really, any excuse to stay by Lelouch's side would have been a good one, and he could tell Lelouch would make no objections. Nothing about the other boy's body language signalled he actually wanted to leave. "We should watch the sunset, don't you think? Being trapped in the theatre all the time, we never really stop to appreciate-"

"Suzaku."

Suzaku snapped his mouth closed, rubbing the back of his head. "So... would you like to?"

Lelouch smiled a little. "Only when I'm with you do I find myself divulging in such silly things."

Suzaku blushed. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe it was a stupid idea. No, of course it was a stupid idea. Watching the sunset; they weren't  _children_ anymore! "We don't have to," he said quickly. "I just thought-"

It was not words that Lelouch silenced him with this time around, but rather by grabbing his hand, pulling him farther down the path, away from the Opera House. "And where shall we watch it from?" he asked. "We need a good view."

Lelouch was leading him toward the park. Suzaku could clearly see the logic in that decision. The park was wide and open, plenty of space for them to lay down in the grass and watch the sunset with nothing to obstruct their view. But Suzaku had another idea.

" _Suzaku_!" Lelouch protested when Suzaku suddenly gripped his hand tightly and began pulling him the opposite direction. The hood of his cloak fell back, the wind whipping his hair into disarray as he struggled to keep up with his friend. "What do you think you're doing?"

Suzaku kept going, turning his head only to send Lelouch a reassuring smile. "Just trust me."

The sun was beginning to dip behind the clouds by the time they reached their destination. At the heart of the park was a large tree, fenced off to keep children from climbing and injuring themselves. Suzaku released Lelouch's hand and jumped the railing without a thought. There was a thin branch low enough for Suzaku to grab hold of. He put one of his feet on the trunk and pushed, pulling himself upward as he did so, until he could grab hold of the next branch and hoist himself up further.

"You shouldn't climb that," Lelouch said from beyond the railing.

But Suzaku was already lost among the branches. "The view's a lot better from here."

"It's fenced off for a reason," Lelouch pointed out.

"You know-" Suzaku craned his neck to look down at his friend, "for someone with a knack for breaking the rules, you're being quite a stickler now."

Lelouch frowned. "Am not."

"Are so."

"I hardly care about it being against the rules! I care that it's dangerous-" Lelouch stopped abruptly, bringing a hand to his mouth.

Suzaku halted his climbing, settling on a branch midway up the tree and wondering if he'd heard correctly. Just as before, he felt a small shift in the dynamic between them. But this time he knew what he wanted to do.

It was easy to climb back down the tree. He did it quickly and without much noise. Lelouch didn't even seem to notice until Suzaku thrust an arm out from one of the branches to beckon him over. "Come on."

Lelouch wrinkled his nose. "I can't climb that. Not everyone is freakishly strong like you, Suzaku."

Suzaku laughed, but didn't give up. "I'll pull you." Lelouch scoffed and still didn't budge. "Please?"

The single word made Lelouch falter. Suzaku extended a hand again, and this time Lelouch was there to take it.

It was difficult only because Suzaku had to maintain his own balance while helping Lelouch up as well. Suzaku ended up choosing a lower branch than the one he'd initially picked out to view the sunset, just because he didn't know how far he could pull Lelouch along. But it was worth it, when they'd finally settled on the branch, Suzaku leaning against the trunk and Lelouch leaning against him. The view from up higher really was better. They could gaze over the park as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky.

"So this was really worth it for you?" Lelouch wondered, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. He was easy enough to see through, though.

"The view makes all the difference."

Lelouch made a soft humming noise that was neither an agreement or a disagreement. "And here I thought you just liked to put yourself in harm's way." He was staring at Suzaku now, thoughtful violet eyes locked on emerald. Suzaku opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't think of anything to say. "That's why you're so obsessed with heights, isn't it? Rivalz says you're always putting yourself at risk up there in the rafters. I didn't really believe him at first but now I can't help but think you want to get hurt."

The worry in Lelouch's voice sent a sharp pang of guilt through Suzaku's heart. "That isn't-  _no_. Of course I don't."

"Then why are we up here?"

This wasn't turning out how he'd wanted at all. Suzaku hadn't been thinking about danger or safety, he'd been thinking about Lelouch - how he'd wanted to share this moment with him. And all the other times... He never intentionally put himself in harm's way, he just...

"I feel better about the world when I'm looking at it from up high."

The words left him in a rush, because he'd felt the need to say something, to explain himself somehow to Lelouch; but Lelouch looked at him now with a furrowed brow. He didn't understand what Suzaku meant, and how could he? Zero was right; Lelouch's life was  _easy_. He didn't know what it was like to have to overcome so many obstacles on a daily basis. To be pulled in two different directions, by the sound of a voice or glance from violet eyes; to feel as if to go to one would be to abandon the other, and finding it unbearable to refuse either of them.

"When life gets confusing, or... or difficult, I just climb as high as I can, and look down at everything spread out before me." He did that now, closing his eyes and then opening them again to freshly take in the view of the park, the purple-blue hue of the twilight sky and the last rays of light from the sun about to be extinguished. He took in a deep, cleansing breath. "And it makes everything go away. Makes me realize my problems aren't so important."

Lelouch didn't say anything right away, but he did hold Suzaku's hand a little tighter. Together they watched as twilight darkened into night, the stars peeking out behind the clouds.

And then Lelouch whispered, "You know you can come to me." He raised his voice a little to continue when he knew he had Suzaku's full attention. "If you're feeling confused, or if things are difficult. Let me help you. Let  _me_ be your shelter."

"Lelouch..." He was touched, more so than he could possibly say. He wished he had a way with words, that he could find some way to express his gratitude to Lelouch, but he'd never been good with that sort of thing. Suzaku was a person who rarely thought before he acted, who used his heart instead of using logic, and that was why he found himself leaning in now, his free hand buried in Lelouch's soft hair, guiding their lips together -

Lelouch hissed, jerking away very suddenly, pressing the palms of his hands to his temples. The unexpectedness of the move made Suzaku start. He reached out, unsure of what exactly was wrong but trying to bring comfort all the same.

"Are you okay?" The only thing Suzaku could think of was that Lelouch was disgusted with him for trying to kiss him. But the look on his face mirrored that of someone in physical pain. Something was hurting him.

"It's fine," Lelouch assured, eyes squinting open, but they weren't of their normal vibrancy. "I'm fine - just a headache." He moved, securing his foothold on the branch beneath him to start the climb down. "I should go. They'll wonder where I am."

"Lelouch I-"

Lelouch wobbled on the branch he stood, eyelids fluttering, and then his body pitched forward. Panic surged through Suzaku's veins as he leapt forward instinctively, catching Lelouch with one arm while the other grabbed hold of the branch to make sure they both didn't plummet to the ground. His heart was racing in his chest. Lelouch was a dead weight against him, immobile but breathing at the very least. It was the only comfort Suzaku could find at the moment.

Somehow he managed to get the two of them back on solid ground. Lelouch didn't make a sound, didn't so much as budge. Suzaku had never seen anything like it before, had never even heard of a person falling unconscious so quickly, without reason. Lelouch hadn't been injured, hadn't hit his head on anything. He'd been with Suzaku the entire time, and he'd been perfectly normal up until that point - no signs of being ill or anything.

Suzaku brushed a strand of hair from Lelouch's forehead, feeling for sign of a fever. Lelouch's skin was cool, normal - maybe a little clammy, but that could have just been Suzaku's hands. There didn't seem to be anything amiss. Lelouch looked perfectly at ease, as if he'd just fallen asleep.

But Suzaku couldn't help feeling that something was terribly wrong.

* * *

Suzaku carried Lelouch to the opera on his back. He got a few odd stares on the way, but thankfully, no one stopped him, as many so often would upon sight of an Eleven boy supporting an unconscious Britannian.

When he returned to the Avalon, C.C. was waiting for him.

"Give him to me," she ordered curtly.

Suzaku just looked at her, confused and frightened. "What happened to him? He just..."

"I know," C.C. replied, holding out her arms for Lelouch.

But Suzaku went back a step, tightening the grip on his dear cargo protectively. "I don't. What's wrong with him? Is he sick or..."

"It's none of your concern, Kururugi," C.C. told him flatly.

Suzaku narrowed his eyes. "Like hell it isn't! Lelouch is my friend! If I don't know what's wrong, how can I help him?"

"And if there's nothing you can do?" C.C. asked, raising an eyebrow.

Suzaku faltered.

"There are many things about Lelouch that you don't know," C.C. said coolly, "and it isn't my business to reveal his. If you want to find out, you'll have to ask Lelouch yourself. But for now, if you care about him at all, then  _give him to me_."

"...Can I trust you?" Suzaku asked hesitantly.

"Lelouch does," C.C. answered. "Though that doesn't necessarily mean that you should."

Sometimes it seemed that everyone Suzaku met offered more questions than answers.

"...You'll take care of him?" Suzaku asked, helplessly.

"I will," C.C. promised.

Suzaku had no choice but to believe her, so carefully, he shifted Lelouch into her arms. Lelouch let out a little groan as if in protest, and then fell silent.

Displaying a surprising strength for a woman her size, C.C. cradled Lelouch in her arms, like a mother to a child, and turned to walk towards the boy's dormitories. Suzaku tried to accompany her, but she frowned.

"Don't follow me, boy," she warned. "I will not tolerate it. And besides, isn't there somewhere you need to be?"

Suzaku gaped at her, unable to fathom where could possibly be more important than at Lelouch's side.

C.C. chuckled. "Give it a moment. It'll come to you."

And with a twirl of her skirts, the beautiful, green haired witch took her leave, taking the only friend Suzaku had in the world with her.

Suzaku stood in place for a moment after C.C. disappeared from sight, his mind a jumble of concern and confusion, and the helpless feeling that resulted created a deep knot of pointless, directionless rage in his chest.

"Oh look, it's the mongrel!" a jeering voice called..

Suzaku turned around slowly. He recognized the group that approached him. Fellow scene shifters, although they were more fond of drinking from flasks hidden in their breeches than actually responding to their cues. Upon Suzaku's first day of work, their leader, a large man with waxy, vaguely yellowish skin straining against the confines of his belt, had poured a bucket of paint on Suzaku when he had made the mistake of passing under the rafters carelessly. Since then, Suzaku had gotten much better at dodging.

"Go away," Suzaku hissed. "I'm not in the mood."

"Aww, is the little bitch missing its master?" Waxy Skin crowed.

"Leave me alone," Suzaku growled. "I'm warning you."

"Warning me? What are  _you_ going to do? Go crying to Lamperouge? You must be a damn good fuck to win his favor. Then again, a street rat like that probably had to do quite a few  _favors_ himself to get to where he is-"

Suzaku punched him. The man clutched his bleeding nose, swearing profusely, as his lackeys surrounded Suzaku, preparing for a counterattack.

Suzaku smiled grimly.

This would be good. He could use some exercise.

* * *

Suzaku came back to his senses about five minutes later. His adversaries were laying at his feet, bleeding and groaning, and Suzaku let out a little sigh. He had been trying so hard to blend in and not make trouble. The other stagehands would have it out for him more than ever now. Great, just perfect.

Absently, Suzaku wondered if he should do something about the mess he made. It wasn't like fights amongst stagehands and even the performers were uncommon, but he felt a bit bad about the blood that was staining the nice, clean carpet.

Lightly, Suzaku nudged one of the fallen bodies with his shoe. The man remained motionless as a corpse, and for the first time, Suzaku felt guilty. It had been so easy, fun even to take these men out, to make them bleed. Human beings were so fragile, one second alive, the next dead on the floor-just like that night.  _His father..._

No, not there. Now was definitely not the time to go  _there_.

But it was too late. The image had burst forth from the dark corner of its confinement, arresting his heart and making it impossible to do anything but stop and stare. Eyes, those  _eyes_ , and blood - so much blood, everywhere, crimson like the petals of a deep red rose...

A rose with a black ribbon tied to its stem nestled innocently on his pillow, with a note bearing a single sentence.

_"Isn't there somewhere you need to be?"_

Oh, damn it all.

"You guys can get to the infirmary by yourself right?" Suzaku asked one man who was thankfully still conscious. "You don't need any help?"

The man glared weakly. "We'll...we'll get you, Kururugi. Just you...just you wait."

"I'm taking that as a yes," Suzaku answered, unperturbed. "Remember to keep those wounds clean. It's a pain when cuts get infected."

He left his would-be perpetrators licking their wounds and plotting revenge. He had an appointment to keep.

* * *

"You're late."

"How can I be late? 'Tonight' isn't exactly a specific timetable, and I  _do_ have a job, after all. I can't keep my entire evening open for your summonings," Suzaku replied irritably.

"I didn't realize that you were so busy," Zero remarked, amused. "After all, I was under the impression that there was no rehearsal today."

Suzaku sighed. "All the same, we're going to have to work out some kind of schedule. I can't be at your beck and call every night. I need to sleep sometimes."

"Such a troublesome thing, sleep," Zero said airily. "Could you imagine all one could get done if the need was obliterated all together?"

"Yeah, well, unfortunately I'm still a human being, and we don't function that way," Suzaku retorted.

"You're very touchy tonight. Did something happen?" Zero asked.

Suzaku shook his head. "Nothing at all. We should get started."

"Very well. Go to practice room number three."

Zero hadn't given Suzaku an exact location to meet up either, so Suzaku had gone to Box Five as always. He was somewhat relieved to find that they weren't going back to Zero's lair under the opera. The place made him uncomfortable, with its stale air and dimly lit halls, so far away from the light of the sun, as if he was being buried alive.

Practice room three was long out of use, although no one was entirely sure of why. But the door was always locked whenever someone tried it, and as far as Suzaku knew, no one had been in there for years.

But the door swung open easily at Suzaku's touch, as if its hinges had only just been oiled, and the room was clean, air free of dust and the musty smell he had expected.

Originally, the room had been meant for the ballet. The barre was still attached to the wall, and the wall opposite was entirely composed of a mirror so that the girls could critique their form.

But in the middle of the floor was a huge grande piano, the black finish gleaming with a shine that told of newness, probably fresh from the manufacturer.

Suzaku looked around in wonder. "Did you do this?"

"You could hardly practice on that rickety old thing in your room, now could you?" Zero answered.

Suzaku shook his head. "No, you shouldn't have...it's too much." He was just a stagehand, he wasn't even any good with music (never mind what Zero said). An instrument this fine should belong to the Avalon, not be kept hidden away for his private use. It was just... too much. Especially after the way Suzaku treated Zero, after he'd almost dismissed this lesson tonight and not shown up.

"Nothing is ever too much for you, dearest," Zero said gently. "You have to get past this belief that you don't deserve anything."

"I don't think that!" Suzaku protested, too overwhelmed to notice the term of endearment Zero had used. First the rose, and now this? Why did Zero dote on him this way?

"Then sit down. The score is already there for you. Let me hear you play it," Zero commanded.

Obediently, Suzaku parked himself in a cushy piano bench that was more comfortable than his own  _bed_ , and looked at the score. It was a simple piece, despite the complicated title in what Suzaku suspected was German. Slowly, Suzaku followed the score, and the clear musical quality of the ivory piano keys almost made the attempt sound halfway decent.

But he couldn't focus. He couldn't stop thinking about Lelouch. Knocking a few hostile scene-shifters around had temporarily alleviated Suzaku's concern, but the relief couldn't last. He kept replaying the afternoon over and over again. Leaning to kiss Lelouch (a sudden impulse Suzaku was  _not_ ready to speculate on), seeing that sudden flash of pain run across his friend's features, and being powerless to help him as Lelouch collapsed in his arms.

_"There are many things about Lelouch that you don't know."_

What could be so sensitive that Lelouch couldn't tell Suzaku? They were best friends!

...Then again, Lelouch had always been secretive. Even after years of friendship, never once had Lelouch ever mentioned anything related to his family or his past. He had always possessed a vast repertoire of knowledge, far too much for an ordinary street urchin, but Suzaku had always figured something had happened to change Lelouch's life. Suzaku knew enough about pain to understand the desire to stay silent, so he had never pressed Lelouch to reveal more, and Lelouch had in turn gifted him the same courtesy.

But this was different. This was Lelouch's  _health_ , and through his knot of apprehension, for the first time, Suzaku found himself wondering: just who was Lelouch Lamperouge?

"You're distracted," Zero observed. "What are you thinking about?"

Many, many things, but Suzaku knew that Zero wouldn't like the truth, and he was so tired. Too tired to start another fight, so Suzaku simply smiled.

"It's nothing. Nothing at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persephone1: We really appreciate your feedback, so please review!
> 
> Lawli: Yeah, please review! :D Love hearing ya'lls thoughts!


	4. Sweet Intoxication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fire_Rose17** : Well, I'm officially on vacation now! In a perfect world, without procrastination, I'd say that I'd dedicate this summer to writing and update my fics more often... Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world, and I'm not a perfect person DX. I'm actually in Colorado right now. The scenery is amazing, and all I have to say is, God bless the GPS (which I named Gigi). I'd literally be lost without it. It's a love/hate relationship really. If I have to hear a mechanical voice say "Recalculating" one more time... Well, enough of that. Got anything to say, Lawli? Possibly something more fic relevant?
> 
> **Lawlipop** : LOKI'D! 8D ... Oh, fic-relevant? …..No. I've got nothing. Enjoy the chapter. :)
> 
> Title Song Reference: Music of the Night

The next day Lelouch was back on his feet, all exasperated rolls of the eyes and nonchalant shrugs of the shoulders in the face of the director's criticism, as per usual. It was as if nothing out of the ordinary happened the day before, but that wasn't what Suzaku found peculiar. By this point he was used to Lelouch's indifferent attitude towards his work, and he figured Lelouch just didn't want to show weakness in front of his peers.

What Suzaku found peculiar was that, when Suzaku inquired about his well-being, Lelouch stared at him as if he'd grown another head.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Suzaku whispered as Lelouch skirted into the wings of the stage after the entr'acte. "If you're feeling lightheaded-"

Lelouch raised an eyebrow, adjusting the ruffles of his new costume. "What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday," Suzaku pressed. "You were sick. At the park. You-you fainted and everything!"

"I did not." Lelouch sounded as of the mere idea were ludicrous.

Suzaku couldn't believe Lelouch was actually hiding things from him. They were best friends; surely they had seen each other in more vulnerable positions in the past. As children they had always been there for each other, a shoulder to lean on in trying times. It had been many years since then but, from the way he'd been acting before, Suzaku assumed Lelouch wished for their friendship to remain as strong as it once had been. He didn't understand why that attitude had suddenly changed, why Lelouch was concealing the truth from him.

"You did," he insisted, locking eyes with Lelouch; refusing to let him escape the conversation so easily.

Lelouch's gaze sharpened into a glare. "I think I would  _remember_ if I'd been ill, Suzaku. I know you fancy imagining me as some damsel in distress, but I assure you nothing is wrong. I'm perfectly fine, just as I was yesterday."

A trumpet sounded from the orchestra pit - Lelouch's next cue. "Perhaps you should go rest," he suggested, glancing sidelong at Suzaku. He pulled forth a fan from his waistcoat, unfurling it and stepping back onto the main stage before Suzaku could respond.

Suzaku huffed, arms tensing around the coil of rope he held. For a moment he had the brief, childish desire to throw the rope on the floor and storm away. He couldn't believe Lelouch would stand there and lie to him outright! And in such a patronizing voice! Suzaku felt more than a little bit insulted, and hurt that Lelouch obviously didn't trust him enough to be honest. Rehearsal was now the last thing on his mind; frankly he couldn't care less if a set piece became loose and gave everyone on stage a fright. Lelouch would deserve it, if no one else.

In the end Suzaku decided it wasn't worth losing his job over. If Lelouch wouldn't be honest with him, he would just find someone who would.

After rehearsal he located C.C., pulling her aside briefly to discuss a private matter. She look disinterested, as she did with most things, her amber eyes bored as they gazed directly at him.

"What is it, boy?"

Suzaku swallowed, wondering if this was a waste of time. His concern won out. "I want to know what's wrong with Lelouch."

She blinked, eyes sliding over to the black-haired boy in question. Lelouch stood with Milly and Shirley, all still in costume, reviewing notes from the rehearsal and laughing. "He looks fine to me."

Suzaku frowned. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"Yesterday." Suzaku stopped, took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "What happened yesterday? You had me hand Lelouch over to you, like you'd seen him like that before. Like you knew what to do."

C.C. began to play with a strand of her hair. "He obviously fainted. I laid him down to sleep, and as you can see all is well."

That made sense. But-

"You didn't want me to stay with him."

C.C. did not appear ruffled by the accusation. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "I thought it best he was alone. He needed rest, not you hovering over him like an insect."

Suzaku opened his mouth to protest. She didn't know his connection to Lelouch, couldn't understand his importance to Suzaku. He remembered the rush of fear as Lelouch fell forward, unconscious; the sheer terror that came with the idea of losing him. How he'd put himself at risk to catch Lelouch and ensure he made it down from the tree safely.

(He remembered trying to kiss him, that brief impulse that felt like the most natural thing in the world...)

"You're meddling in things that don't concern you, boy," C.C. said, her voice low and serious, unlike he'd ever heard it. "Quite an aggravating habit."

Suzaku shook his head. "But Lelouch..."

"If you're wise, you will appreciate that he is well. And you will leave it at that."

* * *

 

Suzaku was hardly satisfied with the lack of answers he received about Lelouch's well-being. He hated the idea of Lelouch not trusting him with that information, and he hated even more that all the secretiveness made him doubt himself. Contrary to belief around the Avalon, Suzaku wasn't a fool; he knew what he'd seen, he'd been right there - the one to catch Lelouch as he fainted, the one to bring him to safety. There was absolutely no way it could only have been a dream; not when he could still feel the residual terror, the dead weight of Lelouch in his arms - or, before, the strange rush of emotions as he'd leaned in to kiss him...

He wasn't making things up.

But, as C.C. requested, he left well enough alone. For whatever reason, Lelouch wanted to keep this secret from him. Suzaku did not approve, did not appreciate the knowledge that he and Lelouch weren't as close as he'd initially believed, but he did not press the subject any further. The only comfort he could take was that Lelouch seemed perfectly fine now, and the only thing he could hope for was that one day Lelouch could open up to him again.

Until then, Suzaku would leave him alone. Not just about this subject, but in general. They did spend more than a fair amount of time together. A bit of separation would probably do both of them some good.

That wasn't to say Suzaku kept to himself. Zero always welcomed his companionship, and his presence was one Suzaku began to take more and more comfort in as the days passed and he saw Lelouch less and less frequently.

The entrance to Zero's lair was surprisingly easy to find. So easy, it was a wonder no one had ever stumbled across it on accident before. Hiding in plain sight. It was rather genius, actually; who would ever think the full-length mirror in Clovis's dressing room was actually a two-way mirror concealing a secret passageway to the bowels of the theatre?

There were more entrances than this one, of course, but Zero was not very forthcoming on the details of where the others were located. Just because he wouldn't tell, however, didn't mean Suzaku stopped trying to find them. He searched on his own, never finding anything but determined nonetheless.

"You are never satisfied," he heard the familiar voice whisper, several days after the incident in the park. Glancing around proved futile; as often as Suzaku wished for some physical sign of Zero's presence - now so especially - none ever came.

Suzaku straightened his posture, trying to look inconspicuous - or at least as inconspicuous as one could look while going through the Opera's small library of scripts and librettos, pulling book after book from the shelves and waiting for one to trigger a trap door. "How can I be when you never give me any answers?"

"You know how to find me," Zero said. "And unlike certain people, I have never missed an appointment with you."

"How many times must I apologize for that?" Suzaku shook his head, replacing the score in his hands. The last thing he needed right now was to be guilt-tripped by what seemed like the only friend he had left. "I told you I never meant anything by it, I just hadn't seen Lelouch in... Well, you know what happened. I don't need to explain myself again."

"How  _is_ Lelouch?" There was something in Zero's voice. A snide little edge that made Suzaku imagine the ghost smirking.

Which made him start to imagine other things...such as what the ghost might look like, if he actually had a physical body...

"Fine," Suzaku answered, tersely. "He's perfectly fine." As Lelouch had made it a point to let Suzaku know, every time Suzaku asked. "Why?"

"No reason. I hardly care about his well-being, I only noticed this is the first you've mentioned him in a while."

Suzaku sighed. He knew Zero was just taking his opportunity to gloat, and for that he should feel frustrated, but Suzaku couldn't help thinking Zero may have been right all along. So many years had passed since he and Lelouch called themselves best friends; they weren't the same people they had been back then. The reality was, Suzaku didn't know Lelouch at all; and how could he be close to someone he did not know? The same went with Lelouch. So maybe there was nothing between them after all.

But what he'd felt that evening, watching the sunset... Despite the days that had passed since then, Suzaku could not forget that rush of affection, the desire that burned deep in his veins, pushing him into action... Suzaku had never felt such emotion for anyone, and he'd certainly never acted on it so boldly. He'd tried to  _kiss_ Lelouch. And, for a moment, it seemed like Lelouch would have let him. It seemed like Lelouch had that same desire.

"He's fine," Suzaku said again, quietly, lowering his gaze to his feet. "Busy with rehearsals, that's all. I don't get to see him as often." It was somewhat the truth, though Suzaku may have been guilty of finding other places to be whenever Lelouch did have free time, and would have to be a fool to think Zero didn't have at least suspicions about what was really going on. If Zero knew of everything that happened in the theatre, there was no way he'd let any happenings of his favorite pupil go unnoticed.

"This upsets you."

It did. More than anything. To have gained Lelouch back as a friend, and to feel such strong emotions towards him, only to be faced with rejection and having Lelouch distance himself from him (and, in return, for Suzaku to distance himself from Lelouch)... It hurt far worse than the ridicule Suzaku faced from the other stagehands. It hurt far worse than losing Lelouch the first time. "That's life, though, isn't it?" he said. "Nothing lasts forever."

Zero didn't say anything. Suzaku began cleaning up the mess he'd made, replacing books on the shelf in alphabetical order. When he'd finished, and turned to the next shelf, he was amazed to see the spines of the books trembling. Suzaku blinked, then blinked again before rubbing at his eyes in disbelief.

A book on the middle shelf wiggled loose from the two much larger it was wedged between, and then the shelf turned inward, creating a gap just wide enough for a man to fit through.

Suzaku just stared for a good minute, still not fully comprehending what he'd witnessed. It wasn't until Zero prompted him with an impatient, " _Well?_ ", that he regained control of his body and dashed through the narrow opening. The bookcase closed behind him, and Suzaku saw only darkness.

Then, candles. One by one the flames flickered to life, illuminating the small tunnel.

"I'm amazed no-one has found this yet," Suzaku said, because again it was so obvious. Hiding in plain sight. Zero was very lucky not to have been discovered yet.

Zero hummed in amusement. "Humans are often blind to what is right in front of them."

Suzaku couldn't help but think of Lelouch again. To be so ignorant to the depth of Suzaku's feelings; to not understand that all Suzaku wanted to do was protect him, take care of him if there was ever something wrong. They had been that way as children. Why could it not be the same now that they were older? "That's true, isn't it?"

"In most cases. But not with you. You see things, Suzaku; you understand. It is a natural gift you possess."

Suzaku flushed. "I don't think so."

"You do," Zero assured him, voice gentle, affectionate even. In his own way, perhaps he was smiling; would he have a nice smile? Even, white teeth, full lips - like Lelouch? Would they be soft, inviting, as Lelouch's had appeared the night in the park?

Horrified by his own thoughts, Suzaku shook his head. He couldn't believe he was thinking such ridiculous things. It was bad enough he'd entertained such thoughts about Lelouch, but now to extend them to Zero? Zero, who was still nothing more than a voice only he seemed to be able to hear? It was sheer madness!

"Did I say something wrong?"

Suzaku blinked. He found himself standing before the man-made lake beneath the opera house, and wondered how long ago he had arrived there. Hadn't he just been in the corridor behind the bookshelf?

"Suzaku."

The voice washed over him, a gentle comfort that soothed all the sadness and anxiety and frustration that had steadily been building inside of him. Suzaku felt himself relax, shoulders slumping, eyes closing and head tipping gently to the side, into the caress of an invisible hand. He shivered, but not because he was cold or frightened. How could he be frightened? That hand was trailing down his neck, across his shoulders and down his arm and it was so real. He felt it as plainly as he felt ground beneath his feet.

Zero was touching him.

_"Come, Suzaku."_

When the hand disappeared was when Suzaku felt panic. "Zero," he called, reaching out blindly. Something caught his hand, pulled him forward and made his heart thrum wildly in his chest. He felt as if he were being embraced. It was so warm, everything Suzaku wanted right now and yet somehow not enough. He longed to have something to hold on to in return. Even if just for a moment, just to know it wasn't madness after all. "Zero..."

_"Come to me."_

And Suzaku couldn't dream of doing anything else. Wherever that voice went, he would gladly follow if it meant being constantly surrounded by this warmth. His feet moved almost without him being aware of it, and soon the lake was behind him entirely, and the candles from the corridor before it. The darkness swallowed him, but it was all right, because Zero's hand held his own and his voice showed Suzaku the way. Deeper and deeper he went, into the bowels of the theatre where no light could ever hope to shine, and it felt strangely as if he were returning home.

There was even a bed, as if it truly were his home - the mattress plush and inviting, sinking under his weight as the voice suggested he lay down, the sheets cool beneath his fingertips. Red satin sheets.  _Red like the petals of a rose, like blood, like..._

"You're tired," Zero said.

And he was. So, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. Yet Suzaku still managed to reach out, slide his hand to the edge of the mattress. "You're here with me?" His voice was low, thick from exhaustion. Maybe he was already asleep. As his eyelids fluttered closed he saw a gloved hand taking his own, and that couldn't be real.

"I will never leave you, Suzaku," Zero promised.

Suzaku smiled, and finally gave in to the darkness closing in around him.

* * *

 

"This is a dangerous game you're playing."

At first all he had wanted was to see him. To watch him from the shadows or up in Box Five - a silent observer, protector, angel... But then it hadn't been enough. Zero knew he was selfish - his entire existence was proof enough of that - but his level of greed when it came to Suzaku surprised him still.

It wasn't right. Suzaku did not belong in his world. His bright, shining aura did not belong in a realm encompassed by darkness. Zero knew this, had always known this. Yet he could not help but watch Suzaku sleep, on the bed in the room he'd spent weeks painstakingly tailoring to Suzaku's liking, all in the name of a silly hope, his only prayer.

_Belong to me._

How desperately he wished it. How foolishly he dreamed of it, and so often, even willing to go as far as to make bargains with the Devil himself if such a contract would make it into a reality.

_If I am already damned, at least let me have this. Let me have him._

"He won't stay. You know that."

Zero brushed a hand over Suzaku's neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingertips as he'd always longed to. If only that heart could beat for him. Just for him.

"He  _came_ to me," Zero insisted.

"In a time of emotional turmoil, vulnerable and in need of a friend, a state you took full advantage of might I add. It doesn't mean he has committed himself to spending eternity with you," C.C. retorted. "It would be better, for both your sakes, if you let him go now."

No, C.C. was wrong. She  _had_ to be wrong. Zero was a man of miracles. It wasn't impossible, if he treated Suzaku properly, showed him kindness and attention, that Suzaku would stay with him. Zero could  _make_ him stay, he was sure of it.

"Zero."

Zero turned his eyes to C.C.. She met his gaze with an earnestness that made him smile. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were worried about me."

Usually that would deter her. If C.C. hated anything it was being accused of having any sort of maternal emotion. Or any emotion at all, for that matter. But he knew she worried; she wouldn't be looking out for him still, as she had all his life, if she didn't care.

"I just know a disaster when I see one. That's what this is." She approached the bed, staring down at Suzaku as well. "He'll never love you in the way you desire."

"And why not?" Zero demanded. "Why is it so impossible to believe someone might? Suzaku trusts me, he is curious about me, and I've seen the desire in his eyes. He might not recognize those feelings, but I do. And I can show him-"

"He loves Lelouch." She was unfazed by Zero's answering snarl. "You know it's true. That's why it makes you so angry. Suzaku might be curious about you, might care about you, might even desire you... But he will never love you. Not as long as Lelouch is here."

It was all true, of course. Zero could delude himself on all other points, but he couldn't forget the boy. Sometimes, Suzaku would get a dreamy, far off look in his eyes, and Zero knew he was thinking about  _him_. And as long as Lelouch Lamperouge existed in Suzaku's heart...

Zero's eyes lit up at a sudden thought. "Of course," he said. And it was so obvious, he couldn't believe it had taken this long to figure it out.

Suzaku could not love him as long as Lelouch Lamperouge was around. But what if Lelouch Lamperouge wasn't?

He wouldn't kill the boy. The years spent alone hadn't made him completely deranged. But if the boy became less available? The small role in Il Muto alone left Lelouch with very little time to spend with Suzaku, leading to bitterness and loneliness, especially Suzaku's part. Without Lelouch constantly at his side, Suzaku would have no one else to turn to but Zero. The human heart was a fickle creature, and in time, Suzaku would forget about the boy. Out of sight, out of mind.

Zero sat back, thought of the unfinished score -his masterpiece, still unperfected - and decided it was time to take more of an interest in Lelouch Lamperouge's career.

* * *

 

_Suzaku is five years old the first time his father strikes him. He never forgets the stinging pain that comes from Genbu's large hand meeting flesh, or the way the servants turn away as if nothing has happened, for no one wants to invoke the wrath of their employer, and it isn't their place to get involved._

_It is the day Suzaku learns to **never** enter his father's study without permission._

_Genbu teaches him many lessons throughout the years in this manner; not to speak out of turn, not to spill or break things or trip. In effect, he learns not to be a child in his father's presence. But sometimes, Suzaku discovers, his father doesn't need a reason to beat on something smaller than himself._

_For the most part, Suzaku takes it in stride. He is strong, after all, strong enough to handle the occasional abuse. Sometimes, however, as he treats his wounds alone in his room because he doesn't want anyone to see him this way, Suzaku wonders if maybe this is his own fault. If he was a better son - someone smarter, who said and did the right things - the kind of son Genbu **wanted**  - maybe his house would have been somewhere other than the place he occasionally ate and slept._

_Maybe his father might have loved him._

_Then again, he doesn't need his father to love him. He has Tohdoh-sensei, at least when he's not preoccupied with military duties, and there is always Lelouch. He isn't lonely; and as long as he stays out of his father's way, he can usually avoid his fists._

_Everything changes when Britannia invades._

_It starts out as a small-scale occupation, giving the closed off country of Japan a window to outside culture and technology; but gradually, the foreigners begin taking more and more businesses and pieces of government, almost to the point where it is impossible to distinguish a Japanese street from one in Britannia._

_Genbu, as prime minister, had been the one who invited the western country into Japan in the first place, opening up trade and immigration, and while in the beginning he had been praised for the decision, the Britannian discriminatory policies (in a host country, no less), lead to unrest in the public, and a desire to place blame._

_The more Britannia encroaches into Japan, the greater the complaints, and the hotter Genbu's temper flares, in need of an outlet. Suzaku, while very quick for his age, is often unable to run fast enough._

_War breaks out. It is inevitable. It is also doomed to failure. Britannia has infiltrated the deepest circles of Japanese government, and despite all the innovations foreign trade has brought, they are still a fledgling country, unprepared for conflict._

_Genbu doesn't care. He is determined to correct past mistakes, even if it means burning Japan to the ground in the process. He becomes increasingly paranoid, convinced his advisers are out to get him (which may very well be true); and the few Britannians who had genuinely hoped to gain good relations, who could have helped Genbu against their monster nation, are banished from the prime minister's side. Everyone is a spy, an enemy. He trusts no one._

_It is then that Suzaku's little Britannian friend, of whom Genbu had always known but never really cared about, suddenly becomes a problem, resulting in the worst beating Suzaku has ever experienced. His father kicks his little body, screaming, "Traitor!" over and over again until the word loses all meaning, until everything loses meaning. And Suzaku takes it all, silent and unapologetic, until he finally loses consciousness._

_Hours pass before he awakes on the floor, lying in a small puddle of dried blood from the gash on his head. His head spins and his stomach churns with nausea, neither of which leave him in the mood to remove himself from the floor. But he remembers Lelouch, out there waiting for him, probably worried now that it was dark and long past their usual meeting time, and that gives him the strength to pick himself back up._

_That night, in the park, Lelouch holds Suzaku in his arms and allows him to cry, to drop pretenses and be the scared little boy he truly is, for the first time. He sings to him, and it is beautiful, and Suzaku forgets, if only for a moment, how cruel and ugly the rest of the world is. There is only Lelouch, beautiful and pure with the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and an angel's voice._

_But then the singing stops and the magic fades and Suzaku realizes he is ugly too. Stupid and ugly and Lelouch pities him; that is why he does this. Suzaku does not want that, does not need Lelouch's pity or concern, and even though deep down he knows that Lelouch only wants to help him, Suzaku can't admit himself a victim, not even in his own mind._

_He gives Lelouch vague replies to questions Suzaku is afraid to truly answer, and Lelouch is confused and hurt by the evasion. Suzaku sees this, and while he has never held any affection for Genbu, that night a spark of hatred rises in him for the first time, for the man who has made him a liar._

_Suzaku forgets about his injuries, forgets the way Genbu towers over him, stocky and intimidating in the face of rage, and with single-minded determination, marches into the office he has feared since he was five years old._

_It is all a blur after that._

_There is blood, lots of blood. Suzaku is covered in it and he doesn't know how it got there. A knife gleams silver. Genbu is lying on the floor like a broken, life-sized marionette, and Suzaku's gaze flits from one image to another before finally focusing on a single target._

_A shadow crouches over his father's dead body - a distorted, vaguely humanoid form, and Suzaku wonders distantly if it is Death itself, a shinigami come to take away his father's soul._

_Slowly, the figure looks up from its prey, directly into Suzaku's eyes. Its dark hand reaches out as if to caress Suzaku's cheek, and its face is a void of deep, fathomless black, broken only by bright, glowing eyes, as red as the blood soaking into the carpet._

_Suzaku screams._

_He continues to scream until his voice is hoarse, and only then does he realize that he's in a pair of strong arms, and a familiar voice is whispering in his ear._

_"It's all right. You're safe. I'll protect you."_

_It is Tohdoh-sensei. Suzaku doesn't know how long he's been there, or even if he is awake or dreaming, but he recognizes a pillar of protection and he clings to it._

_He focuses only on Tohdoh's warmth. His ears catch faint words ("Genbu was murdered!" "It wasn't...it couldn't be!" "Self defense, it was self defense!") but they fall hollow, distant and incomprehensible._

_The men try to ask Suzaku what happened, tones ranging from gentle, to frustrated, to angry, but Suzaku can only repeat one thing over and over again._

_"The eyes."_

* * *

 

Darkness and unfamiliar sheets were the first things Suzaku perceived. Still being chased by the remnants of an old nightmare, he bolted upright, eyes darting around wildly.

Something brushed against his arm, and Suzaku moved instinctively. A strong pull and a twist, and he was straddling a body, his fingers clenching an anonymous throat.

""Suz-ak-u!" a voice choked out. "I-it's  _me_!

"Wha-?" And then he remembered. Lelouch, the bookcase,  _Zero_.

And even though Suzaku knew he should get off his host immediately, with fervent apologies for attempting to strangle him, he couldn't. Because the form underneath him was warm, solid, and undeniably human in ways that shouldn't have been possible.

How was it possible?

"Light," Suzaku murmured. "I need a light."

Zero tried to free himself, but Suzaku was able to keep him pinned easily with one arm while groping around for light with the other. He struck a match, lit a candle, and illuminated his phantom's face for the first time.

His face was a smooth, dark material that tapered at the top of his head like a tulip, ending somewhere just below his nose to reveal a small, pale mouth. Not a ghost, not a voice from another world.

Just a man in a mask.

"You deceived me," Suzaku said quietly, feeling oddly calm as he finally allowed his captive up. It was the only explanation. Suzaku was a simple person in that he never learned from his mistakes. He gave everyone the benefit of the doubt and let himself suffer for his own naiveté.

Zero took a moment to massage his throat, ease his vocal chords. "I did no such thing," he insisted, and it was so strange to hear the familiar voice coming from an entirely unfamiliar source. To look down at a person and not at thin air and see lips move to form words. To know that all this time it was not an alternate dimension or anything supernatural, but only Suzaku's own stupidity that separated them. He felt like such a fool. "You jumped to your own conclusions."

"And you never corrected me!" His own outburst surprised him and he shook his head, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself back down. Being angry would get him nowhere; it wouldn't even get him answers, knowing what a stubborn twit Zero could be. "How long were you going to let me believe I was speaking to some ephemeral voice? A  _spirit -_ was it all to laugh at me?"

"No!" And that, Zero was particularly adamant about. Suzaku took another steadying breath, wishing he could see more of Zero's face than just the firm line of a mouth, hating that the man was there in front of him and still as unreadable as ever. "I was going to tell you when the time was right," Zero said.

"Why hide it from me at all?"

Zero was silent for a moment, carefully thinking over his reply, and it became clear why when he finally did speak again, answering Suzaku's question with one of his own. "What is easier to believe: a ghost, or a man dwelling desolately in the bowels of the theatre?"

Suzaku opened his mouth but found he couldn't speak. Zero deemed that answer enough and sat up on the mattress, brushing imaginary lint from his dark clothes. Suzaku studied the mask again, desperate for something - any kind of answer to the question that had been plaguing his mind since Zero first spoke to him:  _Who are you?_

"It was easier this way," Zero said.

"Easier for  _you_ , you mean," Suzaku retorted.

Zero sighed, relenting. "Yes, maybe. I just...I wanted to talk to you,  _be_ with you. Perhaps the deception was self-serving, but I never did any of it to hurt you. I just didn't want you to be afraid of me." He hesitated, and Suzaku felt a strange twinge in his chest. "Are you? Afraid of me, I mean?"

Suzaku frowned, but his glare softened. "No," he said, wondering where the sudden urge to comfort was coming from. Seconds ago he'd been so angry, and now he was almost feeling guilty. Maybe just seeing Zero vulnerable, realizing Zero was human just like him, capable of being hurt. "Only a little annoyed at being made a fool."

Zero made to protest, or offer some kind of explanation, but Suzaku didn't let him. "But nothing has really changed, I suppose, except...you're something real now, something I can touch, which is far better than some apparition. At least I know I'm not insane." That was one small comfort in all of this. "But...I don't understand. You  _spoke_ to me. I heard your voice as if you were right beside me, and I never saw you, not once." And other times, Zero's voice seemed to resonate from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Sometimes Suzaku could swear he heard Zero's voice inside his head, their thoughts intermingling like one collective consciousness. " _How?_ "

"Illusions," Zero said. Suzaku did not miss the subtle upward twitch of his lips. "There are many hiding places and secret passageways, more than you can fathom," he explained. "I imagine the emperor had use for them, back when this was a palace. Someday, I might show them all to you."

"And why are you using these passageways?" Suzaku asked, curiosity seizing him as he stared at the black fabric concealing the man's face. He reached out, laying a hand to Zero's cheek. The material was smooth, like silk, only thicker, and he could feel the warmth of skin underneath. Zero tipped his head to the side, lips parting as he leaned into the touch. "What are you hiding from, Zero, under the Opera and under the mask?"

His hand moved up to grasp the strange headpiece, but Zero pulled away.

"...I have my reasons."

Suzaku laughed. "Another thing you'll tell me 'someday'?"

Zero gently caressed Suzaku's hair, probably attempting to distract him from the subject. It worked. Instead of the mask Suzaku could only think of the hand in his hair - the hand that was not a product of his imagination, the hand that belonged to a real person. A living, breathing person that Suzaku could see and touch and be close to in ways he never imagined he could with the ghost. "And what about you? What dreams could be filling your head to precipitate such a violent reaction?"

Suzaku's face closed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It might make you feel better," Zero pointed out.

Suzaku shook his head resolutely. "No, it wouldn't."

"Suzaku-"

"You have your secrets. Please respect mine."

"Fine," Zero agreed with reluctance, although Suzaku got the feeling that this was not the last time the subject would be broached. But that was okay. Suzaku didn't intend to give up on obtaining his own answers either.

It was funny, he reflected dully. Suzaku had come here to escape from secrets, only to find himself more immersed in them than ever.

* * *

 

Upon closer inspection, fully revealed by candlelight, it was a very beautiful room. The walls were papered in blue, ornamented by several ink drawings, and a breathtaking painting of a crimson bird mid-flight, it's bright wings engulfed in flame. The bed was a huge four poster, with deep mahogany trimmings and green curtains. In matching mahogany was a small dresser, a wall full of bookcases, a nightstand, and pushed in the corner was a small table with a comfortable looking green leather chaise.

Suzaku ran a bare foot experimentally across the plush carpet of a darker blue than the walls. He would have never believed that he was underground if he hadn't seen it for himself (although his memory of arrival  _was_ a bit hazy). There was even a fireplace! Suzaku hadn't slept in a room so grand since he was ten years old. Every feature was simple, yet elegant; ornate, yet functional, offering plenty of room to move, suiting Suzaku's tastes exactly, almost as if...

Oh, no. _No._

_"What's your favorite color?"_

_"Blue."_

_"You have such a beautiful name. What does it mean?"_

_"Suzaku? It comes from a Chinese legend about a crimson bird of fire."_

Suzaku approached the bookshelves. They were brimming with titles from Suzaku's childhood, written entirely in Japanese, obviously not something Zero himself would have use for, and the closet was full of fine clothes, the likes of which Suzaku had never seen. Waistcoats and shirts, breeches and shiny leather shoes, and Suzaku was certain they were tailored to exactly his measurements.

"Is the room to your liking?" Zero asked. After their little discussion that had ultimately gone nowhere, Zero had left Suzaku to get more sleep, as the boy was still tired, the countless late nights finally catching up to him. But obviously the sound of Suzaku stirring had brought him back.

Suzaku spun to face him, eyes a bit wild. "You...did you do this?"

"But of course," Zero said, waving the question off casually. "Anything to ensure your comfort."

Suzaku shook his head. "But...this, all this? No, no. Too much. It's too much for me."

He was feeling something akin to panic. He couldn't imagine what everything had cost, money and time and effort he could never possibly repay. And Suzaku  _needed_ to repay Zero. Perhaps it was his Japanese roots, or maybe it was only pride, but he couldn't allow a debt unfulfilled, not even to a friend.

"We've been through this," Zero said patiently. "I  _wanted_ to do this for you, to shower you in gifts, anything your heart desires."

"Please don't," Suzaku begged, taking a step back as Zero advanced towards him. "I don't want anything."

"You really don't," Zero remarked, amused. "I've never met anyone so genuinely opposed to being spoiled, but I suppose that's just another anomaly in your character. Nevertheless, as I've said before, I give you things because I want to. I've been preparing this room for a long time, making sure you felt at home upon your arrival."

"But this  _isn't_ my home!" Suzaku exclaimed, and that was part of the problem, because allowing his host to surround him with costly, unnecessary luxuries went against what he had been taught as a child. It was the Japanese way to refuse all one could from the host, to make yourself as small of a burden as possible.

And some part of Suzaku simply didn't  _understand_ why someone like him would be offered such hospitality; why Zero was giving him everything without asking for anything in return.

It was then that Suzaku perceived Zero's answering silence, and the implications of it all - the room, the clothes,  _everything_ \- sunk in.

_No. Nonono. There was no way..._

"My stay here is only temporary," Suzaku said quietly, praying Zero understood. "You know that, right?"

Zero's hand twitched at his side."Would it really be so terrible," he wondered, his voice soft, melancholic in a way Suzaku had never heard it, "living with me?"

Suzaku felt a pang of guilt. How did he always manage to hurt the people he cared about? "No! Of course not!"

"Then why?" Zero demanded. "Why won't you stay here with me? Do you not like my home? Is it not beautiful? The room is to your liking, there are clothes for you. Anything you need, I can provide." Suzaku found his hands taken in a desperate grasp, which alternated between feather-light and deathly strong. "I can give you so much," Zero promised. "Show you an entire new world-"

Suzaku squeezed Zero's hands. "I'm happy with my old world," he said gently, so gently, because the last thing he wanted was to hurt Zero (again). He just knew that he couldn't turn his eyes from the light and share in Zero's dark, cold, lonely existence.

Zero scoffed, breaking the contact between them and turning away with a swish of his cloak. " _What_ world? One of menial labor and constant derision from short-sighted fools?"

"I  _like_ my job," Suzaku said, a bit defensively, "even if it is only  _menial labor_. And the people aren't as bad as you make them out to be."

"You're a  _number_ to them, Suzaku!" Zero yelled. "And that is all you ever will be! A meaningless Eleven meant to be stepped on!"

"Not to everyone."

The firmness of Suzaku's statement silenced Zero for a moment. His hand twitched again, a bit more violently, and Zero seemed to catch it because he carefully folded his arms behind his back.

"...This is about  _him_ , isn't it?"

No need to wonder who Zero was talking about.

"No," Suzaku insisted, "this is about me." But he would be lying if he said that Lelouch had never crossed his mind. He left so suddenly, without any warning or even an indication that he was angry. Suzaku could never just disappear without his friend ever even knowing  _why_.

"Need I remind you that you came to me to get _away_ from him?" Zero demanded.

"I never said that," Suzaku said. Honestly, he wasn't sure why exactly he sought Zero out. He just wanted someone to talk to, and more importantly, someone to listen. He had never intended to step into Zero's world, but he had allowed himself to be carried away.

"You didn't need to," Zero said. He turned back around, facing Suzaku again and though he couldn't see them Suzaku could feel Zero's eyes boring into him. "You came for an escape.  _Let me give it to you._ "

There it was again. That overwhelming calm that tended to sweep over him when in Zero's presence for an extended period of time. He'd felt it numerous times in the past. That feeling of complete ease and willingness to go along with whatever Zero asked of him. The need to obey that voice. It was a tempting offer, very tempting. There was no denying how strongly connected he felt to Zero, nor the strange thoughts he'd entertained about him - which had only become more strange to Suzaku now that he'd learned Zero was indeed a human being.

It could be nice to stay here. To learn more about Zero, as he'd yearned to ever since hearing his voice the first time. To discover the man behind the mask...

Suzaku closed his eyes, shook his head, and just like that the feeling was gone, replaced by his previous anxiety. "I  _was_ angry at Lelouch, and some part of me still is, but I won't be forever. Lelouch and I will talk, and we  _will_ make up, because we always do. I'm not about to break a lifelong friendship and leave everything behind. Not even for you."

"...I can't change your mind?" Zero asked, almost pleading.

"No, you can't," Suzaku said firmly."I'm sorry, but I don't belong here."

Zero's held himself tensely, and Suzaku could tell by the curl of those pale lips he was holding back so much that he wanted to say to convince him. Suzaku hoped he wouldn't, didn't know how well he'd be able to ward off that desire to obey a second time.

Thankfully, Zero heaved a resigned sigh. He was still tense, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, but Suzaku knew he had won the battle, if not the war.

"Will you at least stay here for a time and keep me company?" Zero said, his voice reluctant.

After destroying Zero's hopes, hurting his feelings, and basically saying that they would forever live in different worlds, what could Suzaku say other than yes?

* * *

 

It was very easy to lose track of time down here, Suzaku discovered. There were no windows, no clocks, no possible way to discern the passing of the days. It was as if Zero's lair was frozen in a perpetual present, never quite reaching the future and never touching upon the past. Suzaku slept when he was tired, ate when he was hungry (for there was always food when he wanted it) and did whatever his whim desired. It was like being a child again, the child he had been before the war came, and with it the resulting state of semi-poverty because Tohdoh had refused to allow Suzaku to work with him in the factories.

It was an existence that wanted for nothing.

And somewhere in the back of Suzaku's mind, that disturbed him. For practically his entire life, he had worked for his bread, surviving by the sweat on his brow. He wasn't used to just being given things. It made him feel like some kind of pampered, beloved pet - Zero's kept woman - and what scared him even more was that he was beginning to forget life before. Sometimes he felt as if he had always been with Zero, the brightness of the outside world fading from his memory as if it had never been; and the most terrifying part was even that fear was disappearing the longer he spent in the dark.

For this reason, Suzaku clung to the last remnants of his old life, his  _real_ life - the clothes on his back, refusing to wear the vast wardrobe Zero offered. Honestly, he was far more comfortable in his simple shirt and pants anyway. They were a reminder of who he was; something he desperately needed because he could feel himself slowly slipping away into something he didn't recognize.

Suzaku had tried to leave many, many times, but he couldn't do so without Zero showing him the way, and whenever he brought it up, Zero saw fit to distract him. He'd abruptly give Suzaku another piano lesson, read to him out loud, or ask Suzaku to translate one of his Japanese stories. At one point Zero even attempted to teach him the violin, a venture that was swiftly abandoned after Suzaku somehow managed to break the bow and two of the strings. And it was all so frustrating, because Suzaku  _knew_ what Zero was doing but somehow ended up participating anyway, and ultimately forgetting what he had wanted in the first place.

But Suzaku was determined that  _this_ time would be different. He wouldn't let Zero stall or change the subject. He didn't really believe that Zero would keep him here against his will. Dance around the subject, yes, but Zero wouldn't outright refuse Suzaku if he actually got the chance to ask.

So Suzaku sucked in a breath, and stepped forward to meet both his host and his captor.

Immediately he knew this was a bad time. Zero was working, scribbling furiously, a graveyard of crumpled, rejected papers at his feet. He was composing his opera, his masterpiece - a story of friendship and betrayal, war and oppression, great love and great sacrifice, all for the sake of changing the world.

All this, Suzaku knew from long conversations with Zero. Never once had he heard a note of it, at least not while in the room. Zero claimed it wasn't ready, only allowing him a brief glance at the title.

The Zero Requiem.

_"That's terrible!" Suzaku had cried. "You're writing your own funeral dirge?"  
_  
_Zero had only laughed. "Oh, no. It doesn't refer to_ **my** death. Rather, the death of the world as we know it, bringing everything back to Zero."

Suzaku hadn't inquired any further after that, because there had been a hard edge in Zero's voice he had never heard before, one that put a shiver down his spine.

Since then Suzaku found it better to leave Zero uninterrupted when he was working, for it was as if the music somehow possessed him with a dark, almost frightening passion, making his moods erratic and unpredictable.

But Suzaku had spent all this time steeling his resolve, rehearsing what he intended to say and preparing himself for this moment. If he didn't breach the subject now he feared he would never leave here. Would never  _want_ to leave here.

Suzaku cleared his throat. "Zero?"

Zero glanced up at him, his lips curved in a smile. "Suzaku." The happiness in his voice was so genuine it made Suzaku's heart heavy. Zero set down his ink pen. "What can I do for you?"

Suzaku swallowed thickly. It was so hard to enter into a conversation that he  _knew_ was going to hurt them both. That alone almost made him lose his nerve, but he forced himself to gather up his courage and speak through the growing knot in his throat. "We need to talk."

The smile faltered, because from the tone of Suzaku's voice, the look in his eyes, Zero knew exactly what Suzaku wanted to say.

"Do you know how to dance?"

Suzaku frowned at the abrupt question. Playing dumb again, trying to distract him. He wouldn't let it work, not this time. "Don't change the subject. I need to talk to you!"

Zero laughed. "I'll take that as a no. A pity. It really is a valuable skill. Why don't I show you?"

"Zero, I-"

He didn't let Suzaku finish his sentence, pulling him into his arms and holding Suzaku tenderly.

"I'll lead for now. Once you've gotten a handle of the basics, you can try being the gentleman,"

"Zero!" Suzaku protested as Zero laced their fingers together and held up one of their adjoined arms. "I'm serious! I need to-"

"Talk to me, yes," Zero replied. He positioned Suzaku's other hand on his arm, placing his own hand at Suzaku's waist. "We can talk while dancing."

Zero - as with most things, Suzaku was learning - was a flawless dancer, and he had to wonder how that could be possible if Zero never had anyone to practice with. He moved with grace and fluidity, and even Suzaku's horrid footing didn't seem to throw him off. Somehow, there was music. Even after spending so much time ( _how much time?_ Suzaku couldn't even recall) in Zero's home Suzaku could never discover the truth behind the illusions. This was no different. The organ was playing by itself, a beautiful, slow waltz just for them. It was a mystery, and figuring it out suddenly didn't seem important. Nothing was important outside the warm circle of Zero's arms.

Suzaku became so absorbed with keeping up with Zero's movements, following each step, each graceful twirl, and not treading on his partner's feet, his mind didn't really have the room to form sentences. He seemed to have forgotten what he'd wanted to say, anyways.

In the back of Suzaku's mind, he knew that he could easily push Zero away, could pin him down and force him to answer Suzaku's questions.

But he didn't, because the arms around his waist were comforting and gentle, holding Suzaku as if he was something precious, and Suzaku found that he didn't mind being held and thought of that way - that he wouldn't mind being in those arms forever.

_I wanted to leave._ That's right. That was it - what he'd wanted to say before. They spun again, and the sights of the room swirled together, indifferentiable. The only thing in focus was Zero, and Suzaku clung to him to keep from getting dizzy.  _Why did I want to leave?_

"You're doing very well," Zero whispered in Suzaku's ear.

Suzaku blushed, ducking his head in self-deprecation. "I'm only following your lead."

Zero chuckled, brushing a hand under Suzaku's jaw. "I stopped leading you a long time ago."

The first thing Suzaku noticed was that they had stopped moving. The next was that Zero was kissing him.

_When did that happen?_

Suzaku could not dwell long on the  _hows_  and the  _whys,_  for Zero's lips were moving against his insistently, and it occurred to Suzaku that he really should be  _doing_ something about that.

But Suzaku had frozen, his body stiff in Zero's arms, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away. For one second, his mind had gone entirely blank, and in the next, all he could think was: _Lelouch_.

Lelouch, the boy he had almost kissed. Lelouch, the boy who had almost let him.  _Lelouch._

The boy he had left behind.

Suzaku stood there, at an impasse, because while one part of his mind was whispering  _yesyesyes_ , melting into Zero's embrace, the other could only think about Lelouch, the look on his face as Suzaku had leaned in towards him before his expression had contorted in pain and then shut down entirely.

Suzaku ripped himself away.

Zero stumbled, taken aback. The music stopped abruptly. "Suzaku-?"

"No. I just - I can't - I'm sorry!" Suzaku cried. And he was. So very sorry for his terrible, contradictory thoughts, his attraction to Zero while still wanting Lelouch, and ultimately not being fair to either of them.

"It's okay," Zero said gently, and Suzaku really wished he could see his face to know if he really meant it. Because he felt like the worst kind of human being for playing with a person's - a  _friend's_ \- emotions, and Zero's arms wrapping protectively around his shoulders only made the guilt weigh heavier on Suzaku's heart. Maybe, if Zero was angry underneath the mask, it would make this easier.

"It's okay," Zero said again. "I understand."

It was nice that one of them did, because  _Suzaku_ certainly didn't.

"I'm sorry," Suzaku whispered, hiding his face in Zero's neck. He felt Zero nod.

"I know."

"Are we still friends?" Suzaku asked quietly.

Zero laughed softly, and it nearly broke Suzaku's heart, how sad it sounded. "Yes, Suzaku. I will always be your friend."

* * *

 

It was with the same heavy heart that Suzaku found himself, three days later, waking up yet again in the underground bedroom, far from the Opera, the light of day (if it was even daytime), and the life he'd known before Zero. Despite his intentions and determination several days ago, he'd never mustered the courage to raise the subject of leaving to Zero after the dance lesson that led to their kissing. Even if he missed the Opera and watching rehearsals and Lelouch - and, god, even his own crummy attic bedroom with the out-of-tune piano - he couldn't bring himself to disappoint Zero again.

Zero had done so much for him. Without Suzaku asking for any of it, and without demanding anything in return aside from company, a distraction from a lonely existence, Zero had given Suzaku anything and everything he wanted. Things seemed to just materialize, without Suzaku needing to say a word. If he was hungry, there was food - delicious, warm food far better than anything served to him by his employers. If he was bored, a new book suddenly appeared on the provided shelf, or Zero had a new lesson to teach him.

The only thing that did not seem to appear for him was a way out. And because Suzaku could no longer find it in himself to ask Zero to show him the way, it left him now completely and utterly alone in a place he still did not fully understand.

Suzaku woke and dressed. He'd finally begun wearing the clothes from the closet, at first only because his own clothing desperately needed washing, and then because of the way Zero's entire demeanor changed - became brighter, somehow - when Zero saw him wearing the finely tailored pants and shirts.

Today was no exception. Though Zero said he'd have Suzaku's clothes washed and returned to him within a day, they never found their way back to him. It wasn't something Suzaku took much notice of until he left his bedroom ( _the_  bedroom, it wasn't... he really shouldn't think of it as  _his_ , it was too dangerous to slip into that mentality). Tugging awkwardly at the cuffs of the loose silk shirt he wore (which weighed oddly heavy on his wrists, like the links of a chain), he briefly missed the comfortable simplicity of his old cotton work shirt, before the thought slipped from his mind once more as he entered the main room and realized how quiet it was.

There was no music, no scratch of a pen on parchment. Not even the pacing of footsteps. Nothing to indicate another living presence in the lair.

Zero was not here.

"Zero?" Suzaku called. There was no reply. Only a silence that confirmed Suzaku's fear: he was alone.

Hurrying over to the desk in the center of the room, Suzaku searched for some clue as to where Zero might have gone. A note detailing the length of his absence, or an explanation, or even just instructions for Suzaku to follow while Zero was gone. But there was nothing. The room was undisturbed; pieces of paper scattered in systematic disarray upon the desk, the organ still uncovered by the dust sheet. It was as if Zero had simply...disappeared. Fled from the underground home with no time to gather his belongings, or maybe never physically existed outside Suzaku's imagination to begin with.

Suzaku frowned, hating how unsettled Zero's absence made him feel. Since when was he dependant on other people? Suzaku didn't like feeling this way - didn't like how he felt lost without Zero there to talk to him, to tell him what to do. It made no sense to him why that would even be the case. He was his own person, was he not? He was still Suzaku Kururugi; he lived his own life and made his own decisions. He did not rely on Zero, did not need Zero there beside him at all times for comfort and direction.

Fueled by that thought, Suzaku was determined to make the most of this unexpected solitude. With Zero away, Suzaku could explore everything that had otherwise been forbidden to him. Such as the unfinished score scattered across Zero's desk, of which Zero rarely afforded Suzaku more than a quick glance. Not that it would make much sense to Suzaku even if he'd been given days to study it. The notes were just dots on paper; Suzaku could hardly tell them apart enough to hum a few bars accurately. But the lyrics were written plainly enough for him to understand, even if Zero's handwriting was slanted and childish and a bit hard to decipher at times, especially with so many of the words scratched out or squeezed in at little angles, as if in afterthought.

Suzaku scanned through the cast list, lighting a candle on the desk to see it better, interest piquing as he read through the character names as well as Zero's notes on whom of the Opera's finest could play them best.

He was surprised to see Clovis's name on the list. From its position near the bottom of the list, Suzaku could only assume it was a minimal role, and he winced at the mere thought of the tantrum the leading Tenor would throw if he ever found out about it. The shrill screams would probably be enough to bring down the chandelier...

Something else on the list caught his attention: Lelouch's name, fervidly crossed out beside the ensemble role of 'Guardsman'. For a moment Suzaku thought Zero so jealous that he would ban Lelouch from his 'masterpiece' entirely, giving even Clovis a role before him. Then, however, Suzaku found Lelouch's name again, beside another that had been crossed over to the point Suzaku couldn't hope to uncover who was cast as the role before.

_'The Emperor.'_  
_Lead, Tenor._  
_Tragic figure whose Darkness leads to his own demise._

It was certainly a surprise, and Suzaku had to wonder if this was meant to be another gift for him. Suzaku had been so adamant in defending Lelouch, and so often he'd mentioned Lelouch's talent, and how Lelouch could be better if only he was given the chance to prove himself. Zero never did anything more than scoff at such words, but was this his way of accepting them? Both Lelouch's talent and Lelouch's importance to Suzaku?

_'Black Knight'_  
_Lead, Silent._  
_The Emperor's Darkness, manifested._

Suzaku's eyes were drawn to the words. They were positioned directly beneath Lelouch's role, the Emperor, but strangely there was nothing written beside it. As if the role had yet to be cast. But why, when he'd gone as far as to cast Guardsmen and another anonymous ensemble, would Zero look over the second leading role? Especially if it was silent? That meant anyone could play it.

Suzaku pushed the papers back on the desk, an ominous foreboding coupling with a sudden urgent desire to flee and ultimately leaving him feeling rather ill. He stumbled back, down the stone steps that led to the dais. He needed to leave. Leave and forget about that cast list, the Darkness that would bring about the Emperor's (Lelouch's) demise and the nothingness that left the role still to be filled.

_"Zero? As in nothing?"_

_Zero. Nothing._

The role wasn't accidentally left blank. Zero had cast himself as the Black Knight. As the one to bring about Lelouch's demise.

_It's only a play,_ he told himself.  _It's not real._ But in his mind he could see Lelouch center stage, lit up by spotlights and in all the regalia befitting of an emperor. And he could see an ominous shadow creeping up behind him, grabbing him by the throat and holding him down until the color drained from his face, the life from his eyes.

_It's not real._

And then, blood, covering the stage. Everywhere. Dripping from the curtains, staining the emperor's robes and the hands of that tall, shadowy figure. Like that night, like his father-

_It's not real. It's not real. It's not-_

Suzaku didn't realize he had started running until he heard a door slam behind him. He leaned against the same door now, breathing heavily, eyes wide and wild as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. It was a room he'd never entered before, but a room he knew. Zero's personal chamber, a place he had been forbidden to enter. Zero had been so adamant about it, Suzaku just assumed the door would be kept locked, and he had never bothered to try it.

Zero's bedroom was furnished similarly to his own, only in darker, more subdued colors - dismal blacks and greys that spoke of his solitary lifestyle, splashes of crimson that hinted at his temper (at the idea that maybe he was dangerous after all).

Suzaku closed his eyes, forcefully shook his head to clear away such thoughts. He was being ridiculous, over thinking a simple color scheme. Zero was his  _friend_. There were things about him Suzaku still didn't know - secrets of Zero's past he wasn't sure he would ever be privy to - but no matter what words Zero used, Suzaku had never seen any physical indication of Zero being violent.

He thought of the way Zero held him as they danced - of how gentle Zero's arms were around him, holding him as if he was the most precious thing in the world. When Zero touched him, it was always with the utmost of care and reverence. Suzaku could not imagine those same gentle hands inflicting pain on another person. Even if Zero  _was_ jealous of Lelouch, Suzaku couldn't believe he would try to harm him. The cast of the Zero Requiem didn't matter. It was just an opera - an unfinished opera, at that, and one that he doubted would ever get commissioned to play at the Avalon even if Zero did manage to complete it.

The whole thing was just a gross overreaction. All this time alone in the dark was making him paranoid, and on top of that he missed Lelouch, so his mind conjured this twisted fantasy of the Emperor and Black Knight based on little more than an empty space on the cast list.

When Zero returned, Suzaku would ask him about it. Until then, he wouldn't think of the Zero Requiem again.

Suzaku ventured further into the room, hand sweeping across the polished wood posters of the bed, over the silk comforter. Zero's bed look untouched. No rumpled sheets, no dip in the mattress that suggested a favored sleeping position. Suzaku had to wonder if Zero ever slept - and, if he did, if the ever-present mask came off.

This spurred another curious thought.

Moving across the room, Suzaku opened the closet door identical to the one in his own room. Unlike the variety of colors available in his own closet, however, Zero's was filled with the customary cloaks and black suits he seemed to favor. It was a tad disappointing. Suzaku didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe he'd just been wishing for a hint of the real person hiding beneath that mask...

Sighing, Suzaku leaned heavily against the shelf beside the closet. His shoulder pressed uncomfortably against a coat-hook bolted to the side of the shelf. Before he could move, however, there was a soft  _click_ , and the coat-hook tilted to the side.

Something moved inside the closet.

With a newly kindled flame of curiosity, Suzaku leaned closer, parting the row of tasteful black clothing to see the small passageway beyond. It was just like the secret entrance that led down to the lair - the one hidden in the library, triggered by pulling a nameless book. Suzaku wondered if this led back to the opera as well. Maybe to the mirror in Clovis's private dressing room, or one of the unused rehearsal spaces, or even Box Five.

The idea of returning to the Opera - of going back to his own room, of seeing Lelouch again - had Suzaku moving instantly. He stepped through the curtain of Zero's dress shirts, following the soft glow that called out to him from the tunnel beyond. Candlelight. Torches on the wall led him down a narrow tunnel, barely wide enough for him to fit through. He moved quickly, his desire to return home greater than he remembered it ever being before.

The Zero Requiem was far from his mind now, as was the frightening vision that came afterwards. All he could think of was his dusty attic bedroom, and the rickety piano, and Lelouch's smile directed towards him. He could picture it in his mind, practically feel the warmth of Lelouch's hands gripping his own. Lelouch would scold him for being gone so long, but only to conceal the worry he must have felt after Suzaku disappeared without a trace.

There was a smile tugging at Suzaku's own lips, making him move faster. The candlelight blurred around him, an orange streak at his side, and the tunnel widened. Widened and widened to reveal a circular room.

Suzaku stopped dead in his tracks, overcome by a wave of dizziness. There were spots before his eyes, and in his mouth the coppery taste that was often a precursor to being sick.

_It's not real. It's not real. It's not real._

But it wasn't just a script, and it wasn't his imagination.

On every wall, staring back at him from all angles...was him. Rough charcoal sketches and watercolors, sculptures and oil paintings, every artistic medium imaginable, but all undeniably him. Suzaku dangling from the rafters, eyes glittering mischievously, Suzaku at the piano, Suzaku as a young child, clothes wet with rain. Suzaku, Suzaku, Suzaku.

What...why?  _How_? Some of the paintings were faded, indicating years of age. But he'd only met Zero a few months ago! How long had Zero been watching him,  _lying to him_? Why was everyone lying to him?

In that moment, Suzaku knew with absolute certainty that Zero was never going to let him go. He would be pulled down into the void, the dark wonderland that was Zero's world, never escaping - until he drowned and ceased to exist.

Suddenly, the room seemed very small. Too small, too dark, everywhere. The entire cavern, oppressing him,  _crushing_ him. He was dying, buried alive in this endless tomb, by these countless faces ( _his faces_ ) and he couldn't look away, oh god, he couldn't  _breathe_...

He was running now, not knowing where he was going, or even  _why_ he was running. There was no point trying to escape; even if he managed to find a way back to the Avalon he knew Zero would find him again. Zero saw everything, knew everything; he told Suzaku as much. Wherever Suzaku went, Zero would follow. Zero would drag him back down to this darkness, and then Suzaku would truly be his prisoner.

Even that thought couldn't hold Suzaku still. At the very least he had to put as much distance between himself and that room as possible, and so he fumbled through doors and passageways, fuelled by the single desire to get away, far far away.

But he was running blind, literally blind. There were no candles to light his passage, no gentle voice to give him direction, and soon Suzaku was falling, falling, forever falling.

It was a darkness which Suzaku knew he could not fight. And that darkness claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire_Rose17: That's all folks! Now press the big blue button and review! Zero commands it!
> 
> Lawli: See you next chapter~!


	5. No More Talk of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire_Rose17: We have now come to chapter five, also known as the-evil-chapter-that-would-not-end. This chapter signifies the beginning of the fic's teenage rebellion years, which Lawli and I are steadily working through.
> 
> Lawli:Even after all the love and patience we've given it, it's like the fic wants to give us a hard time, always! .
> 
> Persephone1's side note: To my beloved sister, who has been waiting patiently and has to put up with a sadist who won't let her read ahead, I've got chapter five up now! Enjoy!
> 
> Title Reference: All I Ask of You.

Soft orange light flickered against Suzaku's eyelids, a sharp contrast to the dark, and it was only then that Suzaku realized that his eyes were closed. Why were they closed? He couldn't remember.

It took several moments for it to occur to Suzaku to actually  _open_ them. He blinked slowly, momentarily blind as his pupils, long accustomed to darkness, focused, a familiar face swimming into view.

Suzaku smiled groggily. "Hi, Lelouch."

Lelouch looked down at his friend, who was currently lying in his lap, with a mixture of confusion, concern, and relief. "Suzaku! Thank God you're all right!"

Suzaku giggled. "Were you worried about me, Lulu?"

For a moment Lelouch looked angry, and though he couldn't really think much in his current state, Suzaku could recognize that now might not be the time for nicknames. On the other hand, Lelouch was blushing so he couldn't really be that upset. "Of course I was! You've been missing for  _two weeks_!"

Normally this statement would have alarmed Suzaku, but as he was, it barely registered. "Oh, two weeks? That's a long time."

" _Yes,_  it is," Lelouch cried, exasperated. "Two weeks without having any idea where you were! You could have been  _dead_ for all I knew! What are you doing down here?"

"Dancing," Suzaku replied with a smile, turning to press his face against Lelouch's thigh. Lelouch made a soft, questioning sound but didn't say anything. His hands found their way to Suzaku's hair, parting through the curls and making Suzaku sigh in contentment and look back up at him appreciatively. "I've been dancing." And running, running from something important and frightening, but Suzaku found he couldn't focus on that much, for the candlelight was flickering against Lelouch's pale skin, giving him a golden, almost ethereal glow.

"You're really pretty, you know that?" Suzaku remarked, reaching up to brush his fingers along Lelouch's jaw. "Absolutely beautiful."

In the back of Suzaku's mind, it occurred to him that he may have hit his head at some point.

"I'm not going to get a coherent answer out of you right now, am I?" Lelouch said with a sigh, forcing Suzaku's hand back down to his side, and Suzaku was delighted to see that Lelouch was blushing again, the contrast breathtaking, like roses bathed in sunlight.

"Nope!" Suzaku replied cheerfully, struggling to sit up despite his body's protests.

"Fine," Lelouch assented reluctantly. "But we  _will_ talk about this later."

Suzaku gave a short nod, wincing slightly at the shooting pain that resulted. Concussions were not fun.

He stood up on shaking legs, Lelouch catching him as he stumbled. From then on, Suzaku used Lelouch's shoulder as a partial support, and the resulting fatigue on Lelouch's part struck Suzaku as oddly funny.

"Oh, shut up," Lelouch muttered darkly. "I can't believe this. You go missing for the better part of a month, and I find you sprawled on the ground and half out of your mind like some happy drunk. What  _happened_ to you, Suzaku?"

"I thought we agreed on no more questions," Suzaku whined. "And anyway, what does it matter? I came back to you, didn't I? I always will. Isn't that enough?"

Lelouch's face softened by a fraction. "It is, Suzaku, but I'm only willing to wait so long before coming to get you."

"Well, that's good!" Suzaku said brightly. "That way, neither one of us will ever get lost!"

Lelouch laughed softly. "I suppose not."

Suzaku couldn't possibly know how long they walked together. Lelouch seemed to know where he was going, which struck Suzaku as somewhat strange because his friend had a notoriously bad sense of direction (all that genius, and he still couldn't read a map), but he didn't question it. He simply allowed Lelouch to lead him through doors, down passageways, and up a set of stairs until, finally, the two reentered the world of light.

Suzaku took in the dusty old props, backdrops, and faded costumes long overdue for mending, and it was then, blinking back tears from his eyes, that he realized how much he had missed it.

* * *

Lelouch insisted he remain in bed for the rest of the day, and wouldn't hear a complaint otherwise. Suzaku claimed to be fine, (though no one could really take him seriously, what with the nonsense he kept sputtering about dancing and someone watching him). At one point Bartley burst into the room, snarling about ungrateful Numbers and ensuring Suzaku wouldn't be afforded so much as a five-minute water break after the way he'd disappeared so long. Lelouch's contempt after that particular meeting was practically tangible, and had Bartley stuttering and apologizing and eating his words as he hurried out the door.

So Suzaku had no choice. He lay in his little attic bedroom, feeling a bit as if he were on his deathbed with all the sympathetic looks and the way Lelouch fawned over him. At the very least, he was happy to have Lelouch with him - even if the attention was a little overbearing at times, such as now, when Lelouch began fluffing his lumpy, misshapen pillow for the dozenth time.

"You really don't have to," Suzaku said, but Lelouch only glared at him and smoothed out the threadbare blankets. "I'm starting to think you're just using this as an excuse to skip out on rehearsal." It was nice to have another person, someone who truly cared, there with him. Even if Suzaku could not tell him honestly about where he had been and what he had seen while there. If he was alone, Suzaku knew he might truly slip into madness - return to the haunted darkness of that prison beneath the Opera and never find his way home again.

Because even now, with Lelouch sitting beside him, combing his fingers through Suzaku's hair, Suzaku was terrified of being ripped from the bed on which he lay and dragged back down to that underworld. Thrown back into that madman's wonderland with all the smiling versions of himself, with no hope of ever escaping.

He hadn't even escaped this time. Not really. He was back at the Opera, back in his room, but he was not free. Suzaku could not delude himself into thinking he was safe. Because Zero saw everything; Zero knew everything. It would take nothing for him to find Suzaku and littler still to convince Suzaku to follow him once more, down to that dungeon of black despair.

Despite the horror that came with realizing that he still,  _still_ had no idea what he was dealing with when it came to Zero (and, more infuriatingly, couldn't figure out his own feelings for him, recalling the way they danced and their kiss, searing and passionate, and that dreadful room), Suzaku could not deny there was a certain power to Zero's voice... It was almost impossible to refuse him, should he ask for anything: to stay a while longer, to dance with him...to follow him, always, to be his and his alone...

"You're shaking," Lelouch said.

Suzaku closed his eyes. "Cold."

"...Should I leave? Let you sleep?"

There wasn't much conviction in Lelouch's voice, so even if Suzaku said yes he would be hesitant to actually go. But Suzaku still acted quickly, as if Lelouch might disappear now that he'd made the suggestion. Suzaku rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Lelouch's hips. "Lay down with me," he said. Lelouch shifted awkwardly, and Suzaku didn't have to look to know he was blushing. A moment passed, then Lelouch did as asked, sliding down onto the mattress and stretching his legs out. He kept his hands in Suzaku's hair.

"Suzaku," Lelouch said as Suzaku tucked his head under Lelouch's chin, "where did you go?"

Suzaku didn't answer. Eventually his breathing evened out into an indicative sleeping pattern. Lelouch only held him tighter.

It was music that brought him back. A slow melody that struck a chord of familiarity within Suzaku. For a brief moment Suzaku thought he was back in the catacombs below the theatre, in that room specifically designed for him, with Zero playing the organ just outside. But it wasn't an instrument that created the music. Lelouch was singing. Well, humming, to be more precise - and maybe not entirely consciously so. Lelouch's eyes were closed, one arm folded beneath his head and the other draped loosely over Suzaku's waist. If not for the steady sound coming from him, Suzaku would have assumed his friend was asleep.

God, he loved Lelouch's voice. Even if it was different than his childhood memories, it was a good difference; Lelouch had improved dramatically since he was younger, was able to slide through a progression of notes with ease, from high tenor to low baritone. He'd mastered pitch and volume, could manipulate his vocal chords so that any whispering kept the audience hanging on his every breath and a belt made them tremble in awe.

Of course, those audiences mainly consisted of chorus girls as Lelouch hadn't really any opportunities to let his talent shine on the main stage, but it was only a matter of time. He was getting larger roles now. Maybe one day he would be famous, and it would be his name instead of Clovis's in all the newspaper headlines. Suzaku didn't doubt Lelouch's voice had that power, a power that it could get him so far if only Lelouch tried. If only Lelouch wanted it...

But he didn't want it. For some reason, Lelouch was content to remain an unnoticed voice in the choir.

Lelouch took a deep breath. His hand slid up Suzaku's side and then back down, and when he exhaled he was humming again.

_All I want is freedom, a world with no more night..._

" _And you, always beside me_." Suzaku tried to mimic the right notes as Lelouch hummed them, but his voice warbled and fell flat. Lelouch stiffened, fingers tensing against where Suzaku's shirt had ridden up. Suzaku tilted his head back to look at him. "That's how it goes, right?"

For a moment Lelouch only stared at him, mystified. Then he nodded, licking his lips. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," Suzaku assured, rolling onto his back and stretching. He felt much better now after having been able to rest. This wasn't the plush bed Zero provided for him, but it was what he was used to and in the comfort of his own room, so it was more than enough. "Did you stay here the whole time?" He knew the answer without Lelouch needing to say anything. The sky through the small portal of his bedroom window was a dusky pink; several hours had passed. "You're not going to be in trouble for this, are you?"

Lelouch smiled. "Don't worry about me."

How could he  _not_ worry? "Lelouch, you're just starting to do well. Please don't jeopardize that for me-"

"I don't care about doing well!" They were both sitting upright on the bed now, Suzaku concerned and Lelouch exasperated. Lelouch shook his head, focusing down at his hands which were now gripping the sheets tightly. "How many times do I have to tell you before you get it through your thick skull? Succeeding in the Opera is the last of my concerns."

"But it shouldn't be." Suzaku placed a hand on Lelouch's shoulder, squeezed gently. "You could go so far, Lelouch."

"I don't want to."

"Maybe you don't think so, but I know deep down you do. The rush that music brings you... that's a happiness nothing else can deliver."

Lelouch turned to look at him now, and their faces were closer together than Suzaku realized. Suzaku made to scoot away but Lelouch stopped him with a light touch to his cheek. There was a light in his violet eyes that Suzaku recognized from one other time before - that evening in the park, right before he'd fainted. "That's not true."

Just like that night in the park, Suzaku felt a sudden, strong rush of emotion. But unlike that night, he was not the one to act on it. Not at first. It was Lelouch who leaned in, closing his mouth over Suzaku's. There was a clear fear of rejection in the way Lelouch's brows furrowed together, but there was determination as well. Determination not just for Suzaku to accept the advance - but to make Suzaku understand that he was serious, that he truly did view Suzaku as more important than his career. Much more important.

Kissing Lelouch was different than kissing Zero. Lelouch was hesitant, lips yielding and the touch of his hands feather-soft against Suzaku's cheeks. Zero kissed with all the hunger and force of a starving man, demanding the affection be returned even if the way he'd held Suzaku spoke of insecurity, whereas this kiss with Lelouch exhibited an almost virginal innocence. It was a tender meeting of lips, Lelouch pouring affection onto him while asking nothing in return. It would have been romantic if not for the way Suzaku kept comparing it to the last kiss he'd exchanged.

Funny, how whenever one kissed him he thought of the other.

Suzaku didn't want to think of Zero. Not after discovering that room and realizing that Zero had been lying to him straight from the beginning. But he couldn't help it. Especially now, after Lelouch kissed him and Suzaku felt the automatic response of his body - the electricity that coursed through his veins and made his toes curl, the joy that made his heart nearly burst - he had to wonder what had become of Zero. What did Zero think, returning to his empty lair, realizing Suzaku had fled from him in his absence - and after being so adamant that he and Zero remain friends?

Was he upset? Angry? Did he know Suzaku had discovered that room?

He hadn't come searching for Suzaku, which was a small relief because at the moment Suzaku wouldn't know how to react upon seeing Zero again. In his mind, he was strong enough to resist the magnetic pull towards the enigmatic phantom, but face-to-face that allure was much harder to ignore and he almost always found himself going along with Zero's wishes. On the other hand, the fact Zero had yet to appear or even attempt to contact him spoke of the wound Suzaku's betrayal caused him.

Without meaning to, Suzaku had hurt him.

But why should it matter? Zero had betrayed him as well. Suzaku put his faith in Zero blindly, trusted him in the dark domain where Zero reigned supreme, only to learn Zero had been deceiving him from the start.

Suzaku should be angry. Repulsed, frightened, and nothing more. He was frightened still. Every time he closed his eyes he saw that room, saw the smiling versions of himself and felt that suffocating claustrophobia. It was an entirely new element to his relationship with Zero that he could not fully understand, and it terrified him further that he had no clue how this would impact the near future. Not just for himself, but for those close to him. Lelouch.

Lelouch, who was still cupping the sides of his face, trying to convince him that he was precious - more precious than fame or fortune or any of the success and happiness Lelouch could certainly have in life if he only severed ties with Suzaku and embraced his destiny.

Lelouch, whom he had wanted to kiss that evening in the sunset and whom had just kissed him now. Who apparently felt that same overpowering tide of emotion. Suzaku's oldest friend and the person his thoughts all seemed to converge back to.

Before Suzaku knew it, he found himself draped over Lelouch, returning the kiss with a fervor he hadn't thought he could possess. Lelouch's hands clutched at his shoulders as if they were a lifeline, his back arching somewhat off the mattress.

Was this okay?

There was no going back after this. Suzaku could pull away now and let that be the end of it, let things return to what they had been - a close friendship, a unity not unlike brotherhood - and forget this ever took place. It would probably be for the best, for both of them, if he did just that. Lelouch couldn't know what he was doing; or if he did it must only be a reaction to getting Suzaku back after such a long absence.

A groan reached Suzaku's ears, and he knew he must have made the sound because Lelouch took advantage of the opening to sweep his tongue into Suzaku's mouth and deepen the kiss.

No... things had already been altered, long before tonight. Long before the night they watched the sunset, even. It happened long before Zero, before the Opera... That day he'd run into the street to rescue a little boy's coin after hearing him sing...

That was when he'd fallen in love with Lelouch Lamperouge.

"I was so scared," Lelouch panted when their lips parted wetly. There was a thin sheen of saliva coating his mouth. "When you disappeared... I tried looking for you. Not just here, but in the town. I didn't - I thought something might have happened, that you might have left..."

Suzaku's heart throbbed. The idea that he'd caused Lelouch so much worry...

"I'll never leave you," he said, burying his face in Lelouch's neck and inhaling deeply. He couldn't even think of being separated from Lelouch again. It pained him to think of how long he'd been away from him, and made him feel guiltier still that a majority of that time was spent in almost blissful ignorance. But even at his happiest moments when he'd been trapped with Zero, Lelouch had never been far from his mind.

"Promise me?"

Suzaku kissed him again, and all of that unbridled emotion must have been palatable because Lelouch gasped into his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and twisting his fingers in the material of Suzaku's shirt.

"I promise."

* * *

Suzaku found it surprisingly easy to slip back into his old life. It was somewhat of an adjustment, of course, being at the whim of the sun again, waking at a certain time, dealing with cruel words and mediocre food, but all in all it was as if he had never left. Most had never even noticed he had gone, except for Rivalz, who'd just assumed that Suzaku had quit without notice (which wasn't an uncommon occurrence).

It was somewhat of a relief, actually; going back to work, earning his own keep. During their time together Zero had always given Suzaku anything he could possibly desire. It wasn't until he had separated himself from the phantom that Suzaku realized how much he had disliked being provided for like some pet. There was a certain independence in a job, a wage. He did a service and was paid for it. The conditions were simple and clearly defined, both of which his time with Zero had definitely not been, and most importantly he could follow them without losing his freedom. Which was really what Zero had been taking from him in those catacombs. Suzaku's freedom, his ability to choose, anything that made him capable of living without Zero, and some part of Suzaku hated himself for willingly giving that up.

Zero was always in the back of Suzaku's mind. He was waiting for the Phantom to appear again, preparing his resistance. He wouldn't let himself be taken away. He had promised Lelouch.

Lelouch...

He hadn't talked to Lelouch since the morning Lelouch had deemed him healthy enough to work. Barely a sentence exchanged since their kiss... It wasn't as if Suzaku was avoiding him, it was just... well, he kind of  _was_.

In the heat of the moment, kissing Lelouch had felt good, felt right. But then, so had kissing Zero, and it disgusted Suzaku that he might be so fickle.

But he loved Lelouch. He had always loved Lelouch. Did that mean he loved Zero too? Could a person love two completely different people at the same time? And why was it that, out of all the people Suzaku could have fallen in love with, it had to be his best friend? His  _male_ best friend?

_Is it really such a problem? Lelouch was the one who kissed you. He obviously feels the same way._

No, one kiss (okay, maybe more than one) did not necessarily mean they were on the same page. Lelouch liked him enough to kiss him, maybe, but that didn't mean he was  _in love_ with him. And even if he was, would it be right to proceed when some part of Suzaku  _still_ desired Zero? Because he did, almost as much as he feared him. Desired his voice and his touch, feared what it made him do. What it turned him into.

Which led to the second reason why Suzaku was avoiding Lelouch. He had questions, Suzaku could see it in his eyes. Questions Suzaku could never answer, for Lelouch wouldn't believe him - or worse, he would. He would look into Suzaku's face and see the husk of a person Zero had reduced him to, along with the nagging, buried desire to return to him, like a stupid, beaten hound crawling back to his master despite it all.

"Brooding doesn't suit you, Kururugi."

Suzaku blinked, almost startled enough to let go of the rope he was holding. Why was C.C. up in the rafters? They were the scene-shifters' domain. A person in her position wouldn't normally come up here. And how had she managed with her long dress?

"I'm not brooding," Suzaku protested.

C.C. rolled her eyes. "Then why do you have such an idiotic look on your face?" She didn't wait for him to answer - not that Suzaku was about to. He was too busy holding a hand to his face, as if by touch alone he could create mental image of the 'idiotic' look. "No, you're brooding, and I suggest you stop it. You are one who functions better without dwelling on things too deeply."

Suzaku scowled, lowering his hand back to his side. "Are you calling me stupid?"

C.C. laughed. "Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Suzaku sighed. He should know better than to try getting a straight answer out of C.C..."Did you want something?"

"Would I be up here if I didn't?" C.C. answered. "Lloyd wants you in the costume room. Something about testing the flammability of different fabrics."

Suzaku stared at her blankly.

"...It didn't make much sense to me either, but he's offering to pay you extra for the assistance. Plus hazard pay if anything happens."

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "Why don't I just jump from the rafters now and save Lloyd the trouble?"

"Money, Kururugi. I know you're living from wage to wage, plus you're balancing on a thin thread with management after your little disappearance. It wouldn't hurt to save whenever you can. And besides, you're looking for a distraction, are you not?" C.C. smirked.

 _I hate her,_ Suzaku thought darkly.

Begrudgingly, he gave his rope over to Rivalz and allowed C.C. to lead him away.

Suzaku paused at the door to the costume room, glancing back at C.C. nervously. "Just how painful do you think this is going to be?"

C.C. beamed. "Excruciating."

And then she wrenched open the door and gave Suzaku a hard push.

"Hey!" Suzaku protested as he stumbled inside, but C.C. had already slammed the door in his face, lock falling into place with a telltale  _click_.

"Don't blame me, Kururugi," her voice floated through the wood, obviously amused. "This wasn't my idea."

Suzaku scowled, kicking irritably at the door frame.

"Stop that, Suzaku. If you break the door, they'll probably take the cost out of your pay," a voice warned him. A voice Suzaku was intimately familiar with.

He whirled around, eyes flashing. "What's the meaning of this, Lelouch?"

His friend, just barely illuminated by a small candle, rolled his eyes. "It was becoming clear that you weren't going to talk to me unless I cut off your exits, so that's exactly what I did."

"So you  _locked_ us in here? Lelouch, I have work to do!" Suzaku protested.

"They didn't notice you missing for two weeks," Lelouch pointed out. "I doubt they'll notice  _this_. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner I call C.C. to open the door."

Suzaku let out a resigned sigh. "Fine."

Lelouch smiled. "Good. Now what were you doing the past two weeks?"

"I don't remember," Suzaku answered.

"You don't remember?" Lelouch repeated skeptically. "You mean two weeks of your life are just missing?"

"Yes," Suzaku insisted. He knew how ridiculous it sounded, but he wasn't like Lelouch. He didn't have the imagination for elaborate lies and deception, and the truth was sadly out of the question. All he could do was resolutely deny the whole thing.

"You told me you were dancing," Lelouch said, and Suzaku winced at the reminder. The last thing he wanted to think about right now, enclosed in this tight space with Lelouch, was the warmth of Zero's arms and the music Zero created for their dance. Then, what happened after - Zero's lips against his own, just a fleeting kiss...

"I was out of my mind. I'm sure I said a lot of crazy things."

"You were wearing new clothes!  _Expensive_ clothes, specifically tailored to fit you!" Lelouch snapped, and Suzaku was shocked to see the raw pain on his face. "...Do you have a lover, Suzaku?" His voice was softer now, strained, almost, as if the very thought alone was enough to destroy him. "Is that it? Someone who's taking you places and buying you things? Is that why you go missing at night?"

Suzaku's eyes widened. Lelouch's accusations were getting uncomfortably close to the truth. "Lelouch-"

"I... I thought you liked me, Suzaku. You let me kiss you. You kissed me  _back_." He shook his head, obviously unaccustomed to the idea of being wrong. "I thought I read all the signs right... but if there's someone else..."

Suzaku shook his head resolutely. "No! That's not it!"

"Then  _why_?" Lelouch cried. "Why are you hiding things from me? You've always been like this! Suffering all by yourself, giving me stupid excuses, and just like ten years ago, I can only watch as some unknown being takes you away from me."

"Don't bring that up.  _Ever_."

Lelouch started at Suzaku's tone. He opened his mouth to say something, but Suzaku cut him off before he had the chance. This had gone far enough. How dare Lelouch demand complete honesty with him while he continued to shroud himself in mystery?

"I don't want to hear it! You're yelling at me for keeping secrets, but what about you? You pass out in my  _arms_ , and rather than tell me what's wrong, you let me think I  _imagined_ the whole thing! I know what I saw, Lelouch! And how is it that, after ten years, I still know almost nothing about you? I didn't even know your  _last name_ until a few months ago!" Suzaku shouted, uncaring that C.C. was probably eavesdropping in on the entire conversation.

Lelouch gaped. Suzaku advanced on him a step, and he there must have been something threatening in his expression because Lelouch actually backed away, raising his hands deferentially as he shook his head. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry, I just... I can't."

Suzaku stopped when he realized he had Lelouch backed against the doorframe. Part of him wanted to press further, force the truth out of Lelouch, but a much larger part of him hated the thought of intimidating someone, especially Lelouch, into doing anything. He cared about him too much for that. With a sigh, Suzaku backed off. "Then don't demand full disclosure from me until you are prepared to give it yourself." He ran a hand his hair, frustrated. "I care about you, Lelouch, and when I kissed you, I meant it-"

He was cut off by lips abruptly pressing against his own.  _Again_. Was this whole random kissing thing going to become a habit? It was becoming a surprisingly frequent occurrence. Nevertheless, his lips moved accordingly, pressing against Lelouch's, and when those lips parted, it only seemed natural to slip his tongue through the opening.

 _We're getting better at this_ , Suzaku decided.

The kiss was ended quickly as Lelouch came up for air. "Okay," he said simply.

"Okay?" Suzaku repeated warily. Had they just come to some kind of telepathic agreement he wasn't aware of?

"You like me, I like you. So why don't we run with that and see where it goes?" Lelouch suggested.

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "Are you really going to be satisfied with that?"

Suzaku honestly couldn't imagine anything with Lelouch being so easy and of course Lelouch didn't disappoint. He chuckled, twining his fingers with Suzaku's. "Not by a long shot. But for now, this is enough."

* * *

He liked the kissing.

It was a rush of excitement, an unexpected jolt of pleasure that sparked a fire where their lips connected and sent it rushing through his veins.

He liked the kissing a lot. As odd as it still was to think that this was Lelouch, his childhood friend, it was becoming easier to adjust to being shoved carelessly into prop closets or cornered up in the rafters whenever Lelouch had a break in rehearsal and felt Suzaku should have one as well.

It was still strange, though. Being with Lelouch. Not in a bad way, because Suzaku certainly couldn't deny that it felt good, but at times it made him uncomfortable. Like when they were almost caught - Lelouch stealing a kiss as Suzaku passed through the wings of the stage; they'd managed to separate just as Shirley rounded the corner, and luckily her unfortunate infatuation with Lelouch kept her from noticing obvious things like their slightly ragged breathing.

It was a large step from lifelong friend to lover, and while Lelouch was nothing but patient and understanding - probably because this was just as new for him as it was for Suzaku - it made public interactions with him awkward. Lelouch was already on thin ice for befriending an Eleven; it would ruin him completely if the company were to find out they were together.

Suzaku put his foot down about public displays of affection. It wasn't appropriate and would do more harm than good for both their careers. Lelouch objected, of course - snarling about how he didn't care what people thought and accusing Suzaku of being a coward for letting others determine his actions - but eventually Suzaku had gotten him to agree. From then on, all intimacy was strictly confined to Suzaku's bedroom.

Hence the awkwardness. Suzaku quickly learned it was difficult to turn off the way he felt about someone. To have Lelouch in his arms all night, freely sharing kisses, and then go about the day as if none of it occurred. Lelouch openly resented it still, to make matters worse, and always tried to test the boundaries of their agreement. There were times where he stood too close, put his hand too low on Suzaku's back, making Suzaku pale and frantically search about for hidden observers.

The only thing Suzaku could do to compensate was kiss Lelouch breathless whenever they were alone.

Each kiss was bolder and less innocent than the one before it. But that was as far as they'd gone.

Not to say there wasn't pressure to go further. There was only so much kissing that could satisfy a grown man. Sometimes, when they were alone in Suzaku's room, Lelouch would look at him expectantly. It made Suzaku squirm, having a vague idea of what Lelouch wanted, the fact that he wanted it as well, but uncertain if they were ready to take that step, combined with the constant feeling that they were never really alone.

Zero still hadn't made an appearance. Suzaku wasn't sure exactly how to feel about that. He was relieved, certainly, as he still didn't think he had the strength to confront his phantom directly, even after so many had weeks had passed since he'd fled the domesticated prison. On the other hand, had he really meant so little to Zero that Zero would allow him to slip so easily from his grasp? Somewhere, deep down, the idea hurt a little, although not nearly enough to go back. Maybe he'd just given up; realized that Suzaku would always choose his life above the surface - the life he was now thinking he could share with Lelouch.

If the latter was true and Zero had forfeited Suzaku, Suzaku no longer had to fear for the wellbeing of those he cared about. It meant Lelouch was safe from harm, and the Opera free of the mysterious accidents that had plagued it.

The realization came to Suzaku one Sunday morning, and he sat upright in bed, smiling and feeling oddly lightweight.

 _Freedom_.

It was something he'd always craved but never, until this moment, felt he had.

A soft groan reached his ears. Suzaku glanced down at Lelouch, watching violet eyes slide open and then squint back shut as they were met with rays of early morning sunlight.

"Good morning," Suzaku said.

Lelouch glared weakly and rolled onto his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Too early," he grumbled.

"No." Suzaku went after him, curling his body around Lelouch's and nosing through strands of ink-black hair until he found the pale column of Lelouch's throat. "It's perfect. Wake up. I want to spend the whole day with you; I don't want to miss anything."

Despite the many protests Suzaku managed to get Lelouch to roll back over - an accomplishment he was rather proud of, and it showed by the way he beamed at his friend-turned-lover.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing." Suzaku nuzzled Lelouch's neck, Lelouch stifling a yawn. "I like waking up with you beside me."

Lelouch gave a soft hum of agreement. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

In response, Suzaku tore the covers off them both. He'd been serious about them wanting to spend the day together. Suzaku was eager to exploit his new sense of freedom; the city was always bustling with activity, and Suzaku wanted to share every moment of it with Lelouch. But how could he explain any of that to Lelouch without sounding completely mad? Suzaku could hardly just come out and say how he'd felt terrifyingly suppressed up until this moment, by a phantom Lelouch didn't even believe in.

It was easier to let Lelouch believe he was just that infatuated with him. Stroking Lelouch's ego was a surefire way to make Lelouch compliant - or at least it usually was, when it wasn't happening at dawn on his day off. Lelouch grumbled and shot him a particularly nasty look, which only made Suzaku laugh and lean forward and kiss the tip of Lelouch's nose.

"You love me," he teased.

Lelouch searched his eyes for a long moment. Then he turned onto his back and stated very honestly, "I do."

Suzaku froze.

"You don't have to say anything," Lelouch said, making Suzaku wonder exactly what kind of expression he wore. "I just wanted you to know."

"Lelouch..."

"So now that you have me awake, what do you plan to do with me on this perfect, glorious morning you're insisting we don't sleep through?"

Suzaku didn't have an answer for him. He still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the fact that Lelouch had said he loved him. Suzaku had only recently discovered the depth of his own feelings for Lelouch, and to be honestly he hadn't really thought those feelings, to the extent that he felt them, could be reciprocated. He'd known Lelouch cared, of course, and they'd certainly made their attraction to each other known recently, but love... That was another matter all together.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Suzaku blinked. Lelouch had propped himself up on his elbows and wore an uncharacteristically uncertain expression. Second guessing himself. It was something Suzaku never thought he'd witness. Suzaku acted quickly, cupping Lelouch's face in his hands and closing the space between them. Lelouch sighed into his mouth, laying back down and twining his arms around Suzaku's neck, drawing him closer still.

"Even if we just spent the day like this, I'd be happy," Suzaku said.

Lelouch stretched a little bit, trailing the fingers of his right hand thoughtfully over the curve of Suzaku's shoulder. "Something tells me we won't, though," he lamented. "You won't be satisfied lying in bed all day, even if it is with me. You'll want to get up and run around at some point. It makes me tired just thinking about it."

Suzaku chuckled softly, Lelouch's inherent laziness always a source of amusement. "I'll let you decide how we spend the day," he promised, brushing a rebellious strand of hair from Lelouch's eyes. "It's only fair since I woke you."

Smiling, Lelouch closed his eyes, tipping his head to the side to skim the palm of Suzaku's hand with his lips. "And what if I choose to keep you here with me?"

"I'd gladly stay."

"Liar. I see the way you keep glancing longingly out the window."

Suzaku sat back, grinning sheepishly. "It's snowing," he pointed out.

Lelouch made a show of rolling his eyes but sat up as well. "Honestly, you're no better than a child."

"Take a walk with me. The park will be beautiful with the new fallen snow."

"I thought I was deciding how we spent the day?"

Suzaku took Lelouch's hand in his own, bowing graciously as he would before royalty. "Grant me the honor of escorting you, then, and the rest of the day shall be yours."

"You're ridiculous." Nevertheless, Lelouch was smiling, twining their fingers together. "Come here." Suzaku readily complied, crawling over Lelouch and kissing him as Lelouch's expression silently commanded him to. "There's bound to be some kind of celebration tonight," Lelouch said. The Britannian people loved parties; any excuse for a celebration was a good one - and if it was the first snow of the season, there was bound to be festivity in the town square that evening to commemorate it. "I want us to go together."

"Lelouch..." It was useless protesting, Suzaku knew, especially when Lelouch had that determined look on his face. But he couldn't help worrying. Lelouch's stubbornness kept him from seeing the harm that could come from their openly expressing their feelings for each other.

" _Suzaku,_ " Lelouch pressed. "Are you mine or aren't you?"

"I am," Suzaku hastened to assure him, wishing they could go back to the easy playfulness of just seconds ago. "You know I am."

"And I am yours, and happy to be yours. I want people to know."

"But Lelouch-"

"But nothing. Suzaku, people will always be ignorant and closed-minded. That doesn't mean we have to be as well."

With a sigh, Suzaku pulled himself up from the bed. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." Lelouch wasn't naive, but Suzaku had a feeling he didn't know just how much disapproval their relationship would meet, and as strong as Lelouch must have been to survive a childhood on the streets Suzaku didn't think he'd be able to face that cruelty. Not now, when he lived a relatively comfortable lifestyle, skating by on his good looks and winning smile.

"Nothing will happen." Lelouch slipped out from the bed, placing his hands on Suzaku's waist and nuzzling his jaw. "I promise. We'll have fun."

Uncertainly, Suzaku closed his arms around Lelouch, giving in. "Alright," he said, moving to rest his chin atop Lelouch's head. He could feel Lelouch's smile against his neck and that, at least, was a small reward that managed to take away from the ill feeling curling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

True to Lelouch's word, there  _was_ a carnival going on in town. They called it a frost fair, an annual event imported from Britannia to celebrate the beginning of winter; the arrival of the snow had merely been fortuitous timing. It fell in soft flakes, coating pavement and buildings with a thin layer of white that would probably melt within a day.

Unfortunately, the climate in Area 11 was very different than that of the homeland. Winters were chilly, but fairly mild. Certainly not cold enough to earn the title of frost fair, or to commence with typical activities such as ice skating and snow fights.

Lelouch, however, wouldn't have been interested in either of those things anyway, so Suzaku settled for Lelouch dragging him from vendor to vendor, looking at wares and ignoring Suzaku's faint discomfort.

Admittedly, the reception at the fair wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Most people didn't pay any attention to the two boys, arms linked intimately as they walked side by side (Lelouch had insisted on it, and gave Suzaku a death glare whenever he attempted to free himself).

But there was the occasional staring; the glares of the shopkeepers and faint whispers that made Suzaku want to be far far away.

Lelouch, to his credit, was acting as if nothing was wrong, although Suzaku was certain he had noticed.

"What do you want for Christmas, Suzaku?" Lelouch asked, examining a display of hand carved wooden toys curiously.

Suzaku glanced at him, surprised, although he probably shouldn't have been. "You don't have to get me anything."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "I know I don't  _have_ to. I want to."

"I don't want anything," Suzaku assured him, trying to ignore the odd feeling of déjà vu. Hadn't he had this conversation before?

"Everyone wants something," Lelouch insisted. "Although it's cute you think you don't."

"I  _don't,_ " Suzaku protested. "I'm happy just being with you."

Lelouch's face softened. "I don't think I've ever heard anything more ridiculously sentimental," he said affectionately, giving Suzaku a quick little kiss on the lips.

Suzaku flushed, eyes darting around. "Lelouch-"

Lelouch smiled and put a finger to Suzaku's lips. "Don't ruin it."

"Fine," Suzaku sighed. "But you need to understand, that's dangerous. A Britannian man with a Number, a  _male_ Number-"

"I don't care what people think, and you shouldn't either."

"It's not about what people  _think_ , Lelouch. It's about what they do," Suzaku protested. "Britannia will never accept us together. They don't understand it, and we both know what people are capable of doing when they don't understand. As long as we live in Britannia, we'll be targeted."

Lelouch pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Then perhaps we should go somewhere else."

Suzaku's eyes widened. "Wha-"

"Aww, ain't they cute, boys? Nothing more pure than the love between a man and his mutt," a voice jeered.

Lelouch scowled, turning towards the offender and his "boys", a rowdy looking group, all of which were at least twice Lelouch's size. "What did you just say?"

The ringleader grinned. "You must be a good master if you're so sensitive about your pets. Or maybe he's just a good puppy. Does he do any tricks?"

Lelouch growled, actually  _growled_ , and Suzaku was astonished to that Lelouch was physically seething. He'd seen Lelouch angry before of course, but it was always a cool, calculated rage, exercised with cutting words and a superior smirk. Suzaku had never seen him like this, eyes burning and looking like he was about to snap.

Suzaku tugged on Lelouch's arms gently. "Ignore them. Let's just go."

"No!" Lelouch yelled. "Not until they apologize to you!"

"Apologize? To an Eleven? I might as well apologize to the dirt on my shoe. It would probably understand me better," the man retorted, earning a cacophony of snickers from his goons.

"You will apologize," Lelouch insisted, voice low and threatening. A chill ran down Suzaku's spine.

The man raised his eyebrow. "Or what?"

Suzaku didn't wait for Lelouch's answer. He grabbed his lover and ran. Not because he was afraid of what those men would do to Lelouch (although he was well aware that there was no way Lelouch would stand up in a fight), but rather what  _Lelouch_ would do to them. Something about the tone of Lelouch's voice, the tension in the air, had set off warning signals in Suzaku's head, triggering his rarely exercised flight response.

Suzaku weaved expertly through the crowds, ignoring the protests of the people he brushed past, or of the one he was literally dragging along with him. It was only when he deemed that they had gotten far enough away and truly disappeared into the crowd that he slowed to a stop.

"What the hell did you do that for, Suzaku?" Lelouch demanded, ripping his arm out of Suzaku's grasp.

Suzaku ran a hand through his hair. "They weren't worth making a scene about."

"A scene? A  _scene?_ They insulted you, Suzaku! Implied horrible things, and I'm angry about it. Why aren't you?" Lelouch demanded.

Suzaku sighed. "There's no point in getting angry. It won't change anything."

"No, staying silent won't change anything. Just standing there and taking abuse that you don't deserve won't change anything."

"And what am I supposed to do, Lelouch?" Suzaku demanded. "Start a fight?"

" _Yes_!" Lelouch exclaimed. "Start a fight, get angry, do  _something_."

"Who do you think will pay for that in the end?" Suzaku asked. "Because it won't be them, I assure you."

Lelouch was silent for a moment, and then: "That's not fair."

"No, it's not, but it's the way things are," Suzaku replied, probably with more force than necessary.

Lelouch shook his head. "I refuse to accept that."

"Lelouch-"

"No! I won't accept a world where someone like you - someone so sweet, so honest, so  _good_ , is forced to the bottom because of some trivial difference of birth. You deserve better than that, Suzaku, and so help me, I'm going to make sure you get it," Lelouch promised.

Why did everyone think Suzaku needed more than he had? He was  _happy_ , far happier than he ever thought he could be, than he deserved. And Lelouch would think so too, if he knew all that Suzaku had done.

_Self defense, it was self defense!_

Suzaku closed his eyes, forcing out the unwanted memories, the words that not even he believed, and focused on Lelouch. Lelouch had turned away from him and now was staring off into the crowd, gripping strands of his hair tightly between his fingers.

"Are you angry at me?" Suzaku asked quietly.

Lelouch whipped back around. He smiled, but it seemed a bit forced. "Not at you. Never at you."

Suzaku frowned, unconvinced, but nodded. He looked around, trying to think of something to do to distract them from this disagreement. There were some game stands set up, little contests of strength Suzaku was sure he could easily win in attempts to impress Lelouch - not that Lelouch was really impressed by that sort of thing. If anything, it might make him envious and indignant and just make things worse.

"Do you..." Lelouch had fallen back a few steps, and now that Suzaku was taking a good look at him his expression almost seemed pained. "Do you mind if I had some time to myself for a while?" Suzaku made to protest immediately; if something was wrong, he wanted to know about it. The last thing they needed between them was more secrecy. "I'm fine," Lelouch assured. "I'd just like some time alone. With my thoughts."

Maybe it was for the best. That had been quite an outburst and Lelouch was still obviously worked up about the encounter; some time to cool off was probably just what he needed.

"Okay...I'll meet up with you later?"

"Yes." Lelouch reached forward, taking his hand. His hand tensed up suddenly, squeezing Suzaku's fingers to an almost painful degree. Suzaku winced. Lelouch sucked in a sharp breath. "I'll see you back at the Opera."

Before Suzaku could say anything, Lelouch took off in the opposite direction. Suzaku watched him go, still not entirely sure where exactly they stood - if Lelouch had forgiven him - and certainly not sure when he would see him again. He was left alone in the crowded fairgrounds, at a loss for what to do. He didn't really feel like returning to the Avalon just yet. What waited for him there, besides an empty room and memories of Zero haunting him wherever he turned? No, it was better to escape for a little while longer.

Without Lelouch at his side Suzaku attracted much less attention, and was able to slip through the crowds relatively unnoticed.

The time alone was good. It gave him the opportunity to sort through his own thoughts and feelings.

Suzaku chose to bypass analyzing his still-conflicting feelings for Zero for the time being. It had been weeks since Zero last attempted to contact him; Suzaku could only take that to mean that, though the circumstances under which it happened weren't ideal (Suzaku running away, that is), Zero had finally accepted their relationship could never exist beyond friendship. And since he'd made no attempt to maintain even that, Suzaku could just close the book on the whole situation, because otherwise it would lead to an entirely new and more complicated chapter of speculation.

So without Zero... that left Lelouch. What to do with him - with...  _them_ , whatever they were now.

It was something Suzaku wished he could talk with Lelouch about directly, but Suzaku didn't know how it would be possible without upsetting him. Suzaku wanted their relationship to work, he really did; but he knew it couldn't unless it was kept under wraps.

His personal feelings aside, there were too many factors against them, and Suzaku had to be realistic. He would always love Lelouch, no matter what, but with the world the way it was, with all its prejudices, there was really no fair chance.

...Unless they left. Went somewhere else, as Lelouch had so casually suggested before. As if it was so easy. Leave Area 11, and go somewhere Britannia's oppressive hand hadn't yet reached.

Who was he kidding? It was a nice idea - living with Lelouch in some distant paradise, free to be who they wanted, together - but it was nothing more than a fairy tale. They couldn't just leave. How could they afford it? And even if they did find a way to get out, where would they go? What would they do when they arrived?

And besides... Area 11...  _Japan_ was his home. It was the place he had been born, the place where Sensei rested. Suzaku couldn't just leave. It wasn't even an option. The only thing they could do was keep their relationship a secret, and hope for the best. In time...

In time, Lelouch would probably move on. Get married to someone respectable, start a family. Suzaku could hope to remain nothing more than his lover on the side.

A chord of music sounded, jarring Suzaku from that particularly painful train of thought. He looked up, surprised to see a small colorful explosion several feet away. Another chord sounded, an easy, familiar rhythm beginning. Cheap, wind-up box sideshow music meant to attract children and lesser-minded adults. With all the merriment of the frost festival - spirits aplenty and many townsfolk already feeling the effects despite it barely being sundown - a crowd quickly gathered around the trio of misfits that appeared from within the cloud of smoke.

It was a girl who spoke first, in a voice airy as her small, birdlike frame suggested. She beckoned to the crowd, to the children whose height she barely surpassed.

"Come along and follow us."

A silver-haired man with impossibly long limbs stepped out in front of the girl, spreading his bandaged arms out invitingly.

"Follow if you care to."

Third came a man made half out of machinery. From where Suzaku stood it was impossible to tell if the metal plates covering his arm and torso were real or part of some costume, but the wires leading from the orange half-mask on his face under the skin looked real enough to make Suzaku's stomach churn. People gasped and pointed, delighted by the spectacle.

"Soon the dark will swallow us..."

They picked up the birdlike girl and she twisted to hang upside down in their arms, extending her hands out to the crowd.

"Follow if you... dare to..."

Suzaku scratched his arm, trying to hide his discomfort. "That was something," he commented, trying to laugh off the odd occurrence. Passersby hummed in agreement and carried on their way, either following after the trio or heading back to the main fairgrounds. Suzaku made to follow the latter half, wondering when it was he'd made it to the far outskirts anyways, but something stopped him in his tracks.

A thin, dark-haired figure swathed in a billowing black cloak was trailing after the crowd, mesmerized.

"Lelouch?"

Lelouch didn't say anything, only kept walking. Without a second thought Suzaku chased after him.

"Lelouch!"

Still his words didn't seem to reach. Suzaku picked up the pace, easily catching up with the procession and grabbing Lelouch by the elbow. If this was just another one of Lelouch's tantrums...

But Lelouch wasn't angry. He jumped, startled, before his expression melted into warm recognition. "Suzaku," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

Suzaku didn't know, honestly. He didn't like this place. Suzaku tried to catch his eyes but Lelouch was squinting and already turning away from Suzaku and the glare of the setting sun behind him. Then he was moving, picking up a slow pace that Suzaku could easily keep up with. "You like things like this?" he wondered. He hadn't pinned Lelouch as the type to enjoy these degrading freak shows. Aside from unsettled, the only thing they left Suzaku feeling was pity for the performers who had no other options but to sell themselves like this.

Lelouch gave a casual shrug. "It's interesting. I made a living in a traveling circus for a while, you know."

Suzaku's eyes widened. He had often wondered about how Lelouch survived as a child. A penniless orphan in a war-torn land would have been offered little kindness, but he just couldn't picture Lelouch in a place like this. Or maybe he just didn't want to envision Lelouch as a child - small and frail and girlish, dressed up in gaudy old costumes and kept behind bars, being whipped by ringmasters unless he played to the script they gave him and endured the pointing crowds.

"I mean, I didn't..." Lelouch trailed off, gesturing to the side to a display of The Elastic Man, who was stretching his eyelids away from his face for a gasping audience of five. "Nothing like that. I only sang."

From the sound of his voice there was more to it than that, but by his expression alone Suzaku knew better than to pry. They stopped before a poorly constructed tent, painted in a way reminiscent of the night sky. There were two mirrors in front of the tent, made of stained glass. Suzaku stopped in front of one, blinking at the distorted image of himself: squat and round with narrow yellow eyes. He made a face and looked over at Lelouch's reflection, a ridiculously tall shadow wrapped in his winter cloak, the glass turning his eyes red like a vulture.

"Are you mad at me still?" he had to ask.

"No." Lelouch avoided his gaze but took him by the arm, mimicking their earlier closeness. Somehow it didn't feel the same. "Nothing you do could make me angry."

Suzaku couldn't help but feel Lelouch was underestimating Suzaku's ability to invoke the emotion. Sometimes it seemed like he had it down to an art form.

They kept walking, past a row of caged oddities: the machine-man from earlier, who could crush a human skull with his mechanical arm, and a ventriloquist who could make the lilies planted around his cage sing gospel hymns.

"I'm sorry if you think I was being negative. I just don't want either of us getting hurt, and realistically we both know that's what will happen in the end."

They reached the end of the lot and had to turn back the way they came. As they passed the tent with the mirrors, the little birdlike girl was outside, trying to wave people in. "The journey of your life awaits," she said in that same airy monotone, curling her fingers into her palm. "Don't you wonder what's beyond these gates?"

"What's this?" Lelouch drawled. "House of mirrors? Doesn't seem very exciting." He pointed to a smaller tent several feet away, from which came the sound of laughter. "Do you know that boy over there can apparently freeze time?"

The girl smirked, red eyes alight. "It might not interest you, sir," she agreed. "It just depends... if you can see through the illusion, to the beauty underneath."

A challenge. Lelouch never could resist one of those, even if he outwardly remained unfazed, snorting even. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

The girl twirled, her pink hair fanning out around her. "It's a funhouse where the mirrors reflect only what is real. And reality is as twisted as the mirrors reveal." She climbed up the side of the entrance, parting the starlight curtain. Locking eyes with Lelouch, she leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. "The fun is finding out what the mirrors show. You might find things about yourself you didn't even know!"

Squaring his shoulders, Lelouch strode forward without another word. Suzaku watched after him, not really sure what had just happened but not wanting to be left alone with the bizarre girl. She was looking at him now, head tilted curiously to the side.

"I'm not sure what there is for you to see," she called after him as he brushed through the curtain. "But it should still be interesting."

Suzaku quite honestly didn't care if it was interesting or not. What he really wanted was to just find Lelouch and leave. This whole place was giving him a bad feeling; he didn't like it one bit. At this point he wished he'd just returned to the Avalon and waited for Lelouch to come to his room so they could have a normal conversation. But then again, if he'd done that he wouldn't have learned the small tidbit about Lelouch's past.

Suzaku paused in his walking, glancing around and seeing nothing but reflections of himself staring back. Not a trace of Lelouch.

The thought that maybe the mirrors had frightened Lelouch into actually running through the little maze made Suzaku laugh.

It stopped abruptly when he heard the scream.

Lelouch's scream, without a doubt. He recognized the voice anywhere, even if he'd never heard Lelouch make such a sound. Suzaku broke into a run, turning sharp corners and nearly knocking over his own reflection several times as he was met with dead ends and forced to go back the way he came. Eventually he came across the bundle of material quivering in front of the largest mirror of all.

 _The Beauty Underneath_ , was the inscription above the mirror, but when Suzaku looked at it he saw only himself, crouched beside Lelouch - nothing different or frightening about it in the least bit. And yet, Lelouch was shaking, wouldn't even lift his head to look at him.

"It's okay." Suzaku kept his voice soft, affectionate as he brushed Lelouch's hair back. "It's just a mirror. It's nothing to be afraid of."

Lelouch only gripped onto the material of his pants and shook harder. Suzaku was about ready to pick him up and carry him out of the tent when Lelouch suddenly and violently pushed him away.

"No," he rasped, shaking his head and then freezing and bringing his hands to his face, touching his skin as if he didn't recognize it as his own. Then he pressed his fingers against his forehead as if warding off a headache, as Suzaku had seen him do before. "I have to go. I have to."

Suzaku was back on his feet, but for once Lelouch was actually quicker, tearing away from his reaching arms and fleeing under the curtain.

"Interesting, interesting," the bird-girl commented as Suzaku emerged later. As much as he'd wanted to run after Lelouch, Suzaku had walked back to the front of the tent, if only to take the time to try and process what had just happened. Still none of it made sense, and he'd been hoping the girl might have some answers. Unfortunately she only seemed fond of riddles. "He went that way." She pointed in the direction of the Opera house. "But you might not find him when you find him." She tilted her head to the side again. "You should see Mao. You know he sees the future?"

Suzaku held up a hand to silence her. "Thank you," he said, teeth gritted, "but I think I've seen enough."

* * *

The Avalon was relatively deserted when Suzaku returned, the halls dark and oddly quiet. Those who lived in the dormitories were probably still out enjoying themselves at the frost fair, or passed out in their beds. Suzaku wondered if Lelouch had made it back yet or not. His first instinct was to search for him, but he figured when Lelouch wanted to be found he would go directly up to Suzaku's room. So that was where Suzaku went. Up the old winding staircase to the dusty attic room.

Suzaku stripped off his cloak, throwing the ratty old thing over his shoulder and pushing open the door, glad to be somewhere safe and familiar after the odd and unsettling freak show. As he lit the bedside lamp, however, he realized that safe might have been the last thing he was.

He wasn't alone in the room.

Lounging in his bed, naked from the waist up, was Clovis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire_Rose171: Bam! Didn't see that one coming, did you! Now this marks the end of chapter five, our labor of love and frustration (sometimes it seemed like this thing refused to be written). You can reward our efforts with reviews!
> 
> Lawli: See you next chapter~ :)


	6. Here, Beside You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawli: We're back! With possibly one of my favorite chapters, hurrah! This is where the M rating comes into effect, so little kiddies might want to turn away or skip over any lemon-scented segments of the chapter. Or skip right to them if you're anything like I was as a preteen. ;) Aaand now that I'm done aging myself... enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Fire_Rose17: Yes, this is the chapter with the scene we have affectionately referred to as "The Damn Lemon" (neither of us loves writing lemons. We tried to get someone else to do it, but that fell through). Oh, and by the way, since we're not that great at drawing either, if someone would draw us some fanart, we would seriously love you forever.
> 
> Title Song: All I Ask of You

Suzaku found it amazing that after all he had done, the places he'd been and the people he'd spent time with, Clovis, in his bed,  _half naked_ , was the most shocking thing he'd ever seen.

Clovis stood up, approaching Suzaku, the unsteadiness of his steps and the unfocused glaze of his eyes betraying his drunkenness. It was a small wonder he had made it up the stairs.

"Hello, Kururugi," he said with a slightly lopsided smile. Despite his obvious intoxication, his voice was surprisingly steady.

"What are you doing here, Clovis?" Suzaku asked, hardly in the mood to deal with the temperamental singer.

Clovis chuckled softly, leaning very close to Suzaku's face, so close that Suzaku could smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the heat of his skin.

"You know, you have a nice body," Clovis remarked abruptly.

_That_ wasn't something Suzaku had ever expected to hear from Clovis's mouth. " _What_?"

"I've noticed you up in the rafters, lithe and muscular, like a Greek sculpture. If I didn't know better, I would think you were a dancer."

Suzaku flushed, rather uncomfortable at such pointed compliments, if that was truly what they were. The way Clovis looked at him was more like he was appraising a statue, with a faint, predatory glint in his eyes that made Suzaku feel uneasy.

"I've often thought about capturing you on canvas. Tracing that hard, toned physique from here," Clovis mimed holding a paint brush, lightly touching Suzaku's neck, "all the way down to here." His hand moved downwards, tracing Suzaku's chest, pausing briefly at his nipples before continuing the descent.

Suzaku's eyes widened.

Clovis smiled at the expression. "What do you say, Suzaku? Will you let me  _paint_ you? I assure you, it will be a  _masterpiece_."

Suzaku shook his head rapidly, still not able to grasp what was happening. "You're drunk. Stop this."

"And what if I am?" Clovis challenged, amused. "It won't hinder anything. And anyway, it's not as if this will be the first time you've lain with a man. Unless you honestly expect me to believe that you and Lamperouge are just 'friends'."

Suzaku found himself letting out an uncharacteristic squeak as the lead tenor's "paint brush" continued down to grope his crotch. As if on autopilot, Suzaku grabbed Clovis's arm and flipped him over his shoulder, Clovis's body narrowly missing the doorframe as he was literally thrown out of Suzaku's room. The blond hit the ground hard, the shock of it knocking him out cold.

Suzaku slammed the door shut, not bothering to see if the singer was still breathing. How dare he, how  _dare_ he! He had heard whispers of Clovis's exploits among the girls. He'd ruined many among the chorus and the  _corps de ballet_ with his "portraits," playing around and then losing interest, with no regard whatsoever to the girl's feelings, or the effect the rumors might have on her reputation and career. Suzaku hadn't known that Clovis leaned both ways, although the knowledge didn't surprise him.

Did he have some sort of scent that was attracting people to him? And not just people, but  _men_. First Zero, then Lelouch (although their relationship had been a long time coming, and Suzaku actually reciprocated there), now  _this_? Why him? Suzaku didn't even consider himself particularly attractive. He didn't have Lelouch's natural, graceful beauty, or any type of special allure at all. Maybe his eyes were nice, the color unusual for his nationality, but aside from that, on all accounts, he was exceptionally average. Before he had come to the Avalon, he had lived his life mostly in the background, unnoticed. He wasn't used to being  _desired_ , and quite honestly he didn't like the attention.

Suzaku sighed, uncomfortably aware that Clovis was passed out in front of his door, and would probably remain as such until morning. He briefly wondered if he should do something about the body, then shrugged it off. Come morning, Clovis would wake up, stumble down the stairs and become just another cast member nursing a nasty hangover. What happened to him between then and now wasn't Suzaku's problem.

* * *

 

Lelouch wasn't at rehearsal the next morning. Neither were half the cast for that matter, and the ones who had bothered to show up stumbled across the stage, wincing whenever a high note sounded.

Surprisingly, one of the few who  _did_ show up was Clovis. He looked very much like he had spent the night on the floor, eyes red, hair tussled, and with a distinctive slump that only alcohol-induced sleep on a hard surface could produce. It would have been comical, if it hadn't been for the hard glare he sent Suzaku's way, making it obvious that while his memories were most likely a bit hazy, he remembered  _enough_.

Suzaku hadn't thought much of it. He chalked up the whole encounter to Clovis having too much to drink. Now that he had regained his senses, he wouldn't approach a lowly Eleven again. Sure, Clovis might make life a bit more difficult from now on, but that wasn't really any different than before. Suzaku could handle him.

But that was before he was called into the manager's office. In the entire extent of his service, Suzaku had never been called into the manager's office. He wasn't high enough to gain Bartley's notice unless he was directly in the man's sight.

"I suppose you're wondering why you are here, Kururugi," Bartley said, wiping his perpetually sweating forehead with a handkerchief.

Actually, no, Suzaku was fairly certain he knew what this was about. It had never occurred to him that Clovis might speak of last night to the manager, namely of Suzaku's unprovoked (most likely in Clovis's version of events) assault. He had assumed Clovis would be too embarrassed. Clearly that had been a mistake.

But he could tell Bartley was waiting for an answer, so Suzaku nodded slowly, his mind too cluttered with -  _I'm going to get fired. I can't get fired. I love my job, I **need** my job. My home, Lelouch...I'm going to get fired -_\- to formulate a proper sentence

There was a long stretch of silence in which Suzaku mentally tried to prepare his defense. But what could he do? It was Clovis's word against his, and Suzaku knew very well which weighed more. Maybe if he begged?

Bartley cleared his throat. "Kururugi, our little Opera house is run on a very strict hierarchy, as I'm sure you are aware. It's unfortunate, but main cast members, particularly the stars, have a lot of influence, in some ways more than a manager's..."

From what Suzaku had seen, they had more influence than a manager's in  _all_ ways, not just some.

"The truth is, no matter how hard the rest of the company works, the people come to see the stars. They are bread and butter, the ones who fill the seats. Kallen, Milly...Clovis."

_Here it comes_. Suzaku braced himself. He wished Lelouch was with him. Lelouch would know what to say.

"With such power at their disposal, it is the manager's job to make sure that the leading performers are happy," Bartley continued.

Oh, was that what it was? Suzaku had always wondered what Bartley did around here.

"It's in the Avalon's interest to make sure that their needs are met, make sure their... _desires_ are fulfilled," Bartley said, and the implications of his words made the breath catch in Suzaku's throat.

_No, he can't mean...he can't possibly mean..._

Bartley cleared his throat again, obviously uncomfortable. "Clovis mentioned something about...a portrait, of some sort?"

"A portrait," Suzaku parroted dully.

"Yes, he said that you had an...adverse reaction to the idea. He'd like you to be more... _receptive_ ," Bartley added, more sweat accumulating on his forehead, indicating his nervousness.

Suzaku smiled grimly. "I bet he would."

"Kururugi, you must understand-"

"Oh, I understand," Suzaku cut in, eyes flashing. "I understand  _perfectly_. You would like me to spread my legs for ticket sales, isn't that right? Like some cheap  _whore_!"

Suzaku slammed his hands on the desk, startling Bartley so much that the man actually jumped a little in his chair.

"I wouldn't put it in quite that manner-"

"But that's what you meant," Suzaku finished for him. "You can use all the pretty words you want, try to spin that it's "for the good of the theatre," but that is what you're telling me. Well, you can tell your little star that he can take his "paintbrush" and shove it up his ass, because I refuse to spend a single second in his company, let alone in his bed!"

"Then you no longer have a place here," Bartley said coldly. Suzaku froze, suddenly at a loss for words. "I suggest you think about it a little longer."

Suzaku would have loved to tell Bartley to shove it up his ass as well (which, of course, wouldn't have been quite so easy, considering the gigantic stick already occupied there), but then he remembered Lelouch. Lelouch had a career here, and so much potential. If Suzaku left, he'd never see him again - or worse, Lelouch would follow, leaving everything he'd worked for behind. Suzaku couldn't do that to him.

But  _this_... Suzaku couldn't do this.

_Then I quit._ The words were on the tip of Suzaku's tongue, ready to change his fate forever, but they were cut off by a scream.

Suzaku bolted out of the room, Bartley at his heels (and falling far behind. The man really needed to take better care of himself). The theatre came into sight, and with it, Clovis.

Suzaku gasped. The lead tenor's body hung limply from the rafters, center stage, his eyes wide open. But it was Clovis's expression that disturbed Suzaku. He looked strangely...at peace, content, even blissful. It didn't suit the face of a hanged man.

"Well, look at that!" Lloyd remarked. "The center of attention, just how he would have wanted it!"

Cecile smacked the director, hissing at him to be more sensitive.

"What happened?" Bartley demanded sharply.

A young ballerina looked up, tears in her eyes. "I-I don't know. We were all backstage, getting ready for the next scene, and when we came out, he was just...just hanging there."

With that, the girl burst into sobs, and it became clear that they wouldn't be able to get anything more out of her.

The hairs on the back of Suzaku's neck stood up, and he glanced to the rafters, beyond Clovis's hanging body. He didn't see anything.

But he always knew when Zero was there.

"It was the Ghost!" someone exclaimed, mirroring Suzaku's thoughts and triggering a series of whispers and shrieks.

"He's here!"

"The Phantom of the Opera!"

No, it couldn't have been him! Not Zero! He wouldn't do something like this!

But Suzaku's instincts were never wrong.

"Quiet, all of you!" Bartley shouted. "This death is a tragedy, but it is nothing more than the act of a sick man! Don't disrespect Clovis with your foolish superstitions!"

But why would Clovis kill himself? He had given no indication of depression, and while Suzaku was well aware that sometimes it wasn't so easy to tell, he couldn't believe Clovis would proposition him if he was planning on killing himself.

Something in Suzaku froze. Zero couldn't have possibly heard? And then...for him? No, no, Suzaku didn't want to think like that! Zero was many things, but he wasn't a  _murderer._

There was a time where Suzaku would have been completely certain of that, but he had seen how possessive Zero could be...

_My fault. This is my fault!_

No, Suzaku wouldn't have any more blood on his hands. He had to get away, far away where Zero would never find him. Where no one else would get hurt.

Suzaku rushed out of the theatre, taking the stairs two at a time. He would pack, and leave within the hour. It didn't matter where to. He would just disappear.

Once again, Suzaku felt a pang in his heart when he thought of Lelouch. He would be hurt, wouldn't understand how Suzaku could just take off without telling him, but Suzaku couldn't bring him into this, and if he said goodbye he knew he would never be able to leave.

He packed hastily, just a few changes of clothes, the photo of Tohdoh-sensei, and some money that would hopefully hold him over until he could find another job. Maybe he could herd sheep in the country somewhere...

Suzaku would have been in and out in a matter of minutes if a flash of white paper, an envelope, sitting innocently on Suzaku's pillow, hadn't caught his eye.

The letter wasn't addressed to him. That should have deterred Suzaku from opening it; but he recognized that rough scrawl, the ink that so frighteningly resembled blood, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from tearing the envelope open. He found it strange that Zero would leave a letter for Lelouch on Suzaku's pillow, but in hindsight he could see that in itself had been an attack on Zero's part. A clear message: he knew everything, including where Lelouch had been spending his nights most frequently. Suzaku had been correct to assume they were never truly alone.

_L. Lamperouge,_

_My patience is wearing thin. Remember my warning to you, and remember I will not hesitate to act on it._

_\- O.G._

Suzaku forgot about the packing, forgot about his hastily made plans. There was no point to them now.

It was already too late.

* * *

 

"Well he  _is_ hesitating, isn't he," Lelouch said later that evening when Suzaku brandished the letter to him.

Suzaku was appalled by his easy acceptance - not even denying this wasn't the first letter he'd received. He wondered how long this had been going on - Lelouch being blatantly threatened without Suzaku even being aware.

Lelouch only smirked. Suzaku couldn't understand how he managed to remain so calm when his life was on the line and the same person threatening him was already rumored to have killed a man. "I'm not worried. If this  _O.G._ was as serious as he claimed, he would not be waiting to finish me off. He would have shown himself already."

"Then what does he want?"

Lelouch shrugged. "To frighten me into submission, I suppose. He's wasting his time. Lelouch Lamperouge bows to no one."

That certainly was the truth. Suzaku couldn't help rolling his eyes at the display of arrogance. Normally it would amuse him, but in light of recent events Suzaku couldn't bring himself to be so carefree. He'd already spent so much time ignorant to what was happening - the accidents in the opera and now the threats Lelouch was receiving because of him, because of their relationship, and just because Lelouch didn't seem concerned didn't relieve Suzaku of his own anxiety.

"We have to do something," he said.

Lelouch absently turned the letter over in his hands. "Well there doesn't seem to be a return address," he began, voice thick with amusement. "That limits our options a bit."

"This is serious!" Suzaku was on his feet abruptly, much to Lelouch's surprise. Suzaku shook his head. Lelouch still thought this was some hoax, a game. The only way to make him understand would be to tell him the truth - not only about who Zero was, but exactly Suzaku's connection to him. "You don't know who he is, what he's capable of."

"And you do?" Lelouch raised a dignified eyebrow, clearly skeptical of the whole thing.

"Lelouch...I've been there. To his world underneath the theatre. That tomb...I've seen it with my own eyes. He brought me there. Those two weeks I was missing -"

"You can't expect me to believe that this  _phantom_ lives beneath the theatre! That he kidnapped you!" Lelouch snorted and glared at him disdainfully. Then his expression softened into something even worse: disappointment. As if he had expected more out of Suzaku, and Suzaku's believing in the phantom let him down. "It's  _absurd_."

"I've seen him!" Suzaku pressed, grabbing Lelouch by the shoulders as if he could physically shake the truth into him. "God, I can never forget him... Even now, he haunts me. Like he's everywhere..."

His grip eased slightly, and Lelouch managed to scramble away from him. Suzaku didn't notice. "He killed Clovis," he whispered.

Lelouch's eyes widened. "What happened to Clovis was an accident."

"Tell me...how many accidents have there been?" Suzaku snatched the letter away from Lelouch's hands. "How many are to come? He's already marked you as next."

His hand, trembling, curled around the paper, crumpling it.

"Suzaku, nothing's going to happen to me," Lelouch tried to assure him, but already Suzaku was shaking, the idea of finding Lelouch dangling lifelessly from the rafters quite enough to undo him.

"It frightens me," he admitted.

There was a long stretch of silence. Suzaku sighed heavily, slumping onto the mattress and burying his face in his hands. Lelouch thought he was crazy. It was evident from his words, from the look on his face and the way he couldn't even bear to stand next to him. Lelouch didn't believe him, and what did he have if he did not have Lelouch's trust, his support? How could he get through this? More importantly, how could he protect Lelouch?

The mattress dipped as Lelouch slowly lowered himself onto the bed beside him. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he said, voice gentle, as he laid a hand on Suzaku's shoulder.

"But his voice... Oh, when he sings-"

"The ghost sings now?" Lelouch mused under his breath, sliding a hand into Suzaku's hair.

Suzaku paid him no attention, lost in his recollection of Zero. He had only heard him sing a handful of times, just a scale during Suzaku's lessons and then, when he hadn't thought Suzaku was listening and he was writing portions of his masterpiece. It had been enough to shake Suzaku and leave a distinct impression. "He has the most beautiful voice... And when he sings, it feels like my spirit is soaring. But it's sad, so sad...It's like nothing I've ever heard before, Lelouch."

Lelouch sighed. He looked over Suzaku before drawing him closer, laying Suzaku's head on his shoulder. "What you heard was nothing more than a dream." Suzaku opened his mouth to protest but Lelouch silenced him by leaning down and covering Suzaku's lips with his own. Suzaku reached out, tightly gripping the collar of Lelouch's shirt. "Believe me, Suzaku," Lelouch breathed as he pulled back, looking imploringly into conflicted emerald eyes. "I've been here much longer than you have. There is no phantom of the Opera."

Suzaku wanted to believe him. Desperately, even if it meant that he was crazy, he wanted to believe in Lelouch's logic, his gentle reassurances. But he knew better. He had heard the Phantom's voice, felt his warmth, laughed with him, argued with him. No, Suzaku wasn't crazy, no matter how much he wanted to be.

"As long as we're here, in his Opera, we'll never be safe," Suzaku whispered.

Lelouch thought a moment, then smiled, gently cupping Suzaku's hands. "Then we'll leave, go somewhere else. I have some money saved up. We could go far from here, to the EU, maybe. Away from Britannia, away from ghosts, away from anything that's trying to keep us apart."

Suzaku shook his head. "No, Lelouch, your career-"

"I don't care about my career," Lelouch cried. "I only care about you!" He pulled Suzaku into his arms. "I love _you_ , Suzaku. I want to spend forever with  _you_. It doesn't matter where."

Suzaku sighed, leaning into the embrace. "I love you too, Lelouch. Always, from the moment I heard you sing."

Lelouch brushed his fingers under Suzaku's chin, directing Suzaku's eyes to meet his own. "Then kiss me."

Obediently, Suzaku pressed his lips against Lelouch's. The kiss was soft and gentle, and in that moment, Suzaku honestly believed that maybe this could work, maybe they could share one love, one lifetime together.

"Again," Lelouch sighed, and Suzaku laughed breathlessly as he complied. He should have known better than to think Lelouch would be anything but a demanding lover.

The world around them seemed to fade out of existence, the only thing that mattered was Lelouch - Lelouch's mouth, the way his breath hitched as Suzaku's tongue swept across his bottom lip, his scent.  _Everything_. It made a familiar heat centralize in Suzaku's body. And for the first time, rather than embarrassed and awkward, Suzaku felt comfortable with the slow burn, comfortable with just letting it overtake him.

Lelouch leaned back, his arms sliding around Suzaku's neck and pulling him down. Suzaku used an arm to brace himself over Lelouch, though Lelouch seemed to disapprove if the frown on his face was any indication. He parted his legs in invitation for Suzaku to fit himself, and when Suzaku still did not Lelouch resorted to wrapping one of those long legs around Suzaku's hips.

Suzaku swallowed. Uncertainty was back, he realized, flanked by those familiar questions:  _Are we moving too fast? Is he ready for this? Am_ I  _ready for this?_ "L-Lelouch-"

"Suzaku, you don't have to be gentle with me," Lelouch assured him, and canted his hips just slightly to prove his point. He wanted this just as much as Suzaku did, and he didn't want either of them to hold back. Too long they'd been tiptoeing around this in a maddening game of: how far can this go?

Lelouch pulled himself up, his hands sliding from Suzaku's shoulders down to his chest, where he slowly began to undo the buttons of the shirt he wore. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. Since the moment you came back into my life, I've wanted you," he confessed, the sentiment  of the words bringing a flush to his cheeks. Talking about emotions did not come so easily to Lelouch, and Suzaku was surprised he was able to swallow enough pride to even admit he'd desired this for so long.

Stripping the shirt from Suzaku, Lelouch tossed it aside then laid back down, his eyes beckoning. And this time Suzaku complied, fitting his body against Lelouch's and claiming those upturned lips with his own.

It was the perfect distraction. Thoughts of Clovis and Zero were far from Suzaku's mind. All he could wrap his mind around was Lelouch and the promise they'd made to start a new life together. This was the first step in fulfilling that promise: the ultimate physical form of their love for each other.

Suzaku's lips trailed down Lelouch's throat, nipping at the skin and eliciting soft gasps of approval. He couldn't believe this was actually happening, that he had Lelouch beneath him, so perfectly willing. It was something he'd only dreamed of. And the knowledge that Lelouch had dreamt of it as well… They'd already confessed having feelings for each other, but just knowing that Lelouch wanted him so badly was enough to make Suzaku hard.

He wondered if Lelouch thought about him when Suzaku wasn't watching, if he thought about Suzaku's hands on him, or his mouth. He wondered if Lelouch dreamt of him, ever touched himself while thinking of him.

The mental image alone - Lelouch tangled in the sheets of his dorm bed, flushed and panting with Suzaku's name on his lips as he pleasured himself - made Suzaku shudder, a fresh wave of desire washing over him. It was strange. Suzaku had always strived to keep his thoughts free of such vulgarity, believing Lelouch might find it base of him if he ever found out. Not to mention he never thought this would be happening between them so soon, even after Lelouch's advances and physical displays of affection. Those were always small things: kisses, caresses. This was something else entirely.

As he sucked at a patch of skin above Lelouch's collarbone, Suzaku's hands trailed down Lelouch's body, feeling each contour through the thin shirt the other wore. Lelouch shifted underneath him, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. His heart rate had accelerated; Suzaku could feel it fluttering beneath his lips as he moved back up Lelouch's neck and to his lips to kiss him again.

Lelouch opened his eyes. Desire darkened them to a deep amethyst.

Suzaku pulled back. Lelouch opened his mouth to protest, but before he could Suzaku set to work on pulling Lelouch's shirt up over his head, baring the smooth, thin torso and smiling at the eruption of gooseflesh over pale skin. With his eyes still appraising, Suzaku ghosted his hand across Lelouch's chest, sweeping over his collarbone and the little patch of red skin left by his mouth, down the dip of his sternum and over his left nipple.

Lelouch gasped.

Suzaku laughed softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're so beautiful," he said, watching as Lelouch's cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

"Sh-shut up… Idiot..." Lelouch mumbled something about talking ruining the mood, so Suzaku decided words weren't necessary.

He continued his exploration of Lelouch's chest, sliding his hands down Lelouch's side and marveling at how he could feel the indentation of ribs so close to the skin's surface. Lelouch really was more fragile than he realized. Suzaku felt as if he could snap the other boy in half with very little effort, and that was what frightened him.

The last thing Suzaku wanted was to hurt him. He wanted this to be perfect for both of them.

His lips joined his hands, tasting the skin beneath his fingers and making Lelouch twitch underneath him. Hands wound around Suzaku's neck, pulling him closer – a silent command to continue. Suzaku smirked at the thought of Lelouch again being very demanding, but this was something he was all too willing to continue with. He planted a kiss over Lelouch's heart, and though Lelouch made it clear he wanted no more words Suzaku could not resist. "I love you," he mouthed against the skin.

Lelouch's arms tightened around him. Suzaku read it as,  _I know._

It was easy to get lost in pleasuring Lelouch. Each little squirm and sound that escaped Lelouch's lips was a reward, and it became a game of sorts for Suzaku to see exactly how Lelouch would react to his ministrations: what made him jump, what caused him to toss his head back against the pillow, what got him gasping Suzaku's name in that breathy, alluring way?

Suzaku quickly learned that Lelouch's nipples were very sensitive, and his back arched off the mattress if Suzaku grazed his teeth over them. If Suzaku dipped his tongue into Lelouch's naval, the muscles of Lelouch's stomach trembled and jumped. And when Suzaku trailed down to the waistline of Lelouch's pants, Lelouch's hands gripped his hair and a small whine escaped him.

It was at this point, as Suzaku sat back to work Lelouch's pants down his legs, Suzaku realized how hard he was himself.

"Is it okay if I...?" His voice trailed off as he met Lelouch's eyes.

For a moment Lelouch hesitated, doubt flickering across his face before he pressed his lips together and gave a resolved nod. Suzaku breathed a silent sigh of relief. He would have stopped if Lelouch had truly wanted it, but after coming this far it would have been very difficult to pull himself away.

Especially after Lelouch was naked. Suzaku's throat ran dry as he stared down at his lover, all long limbs and porcelain skin, chest heaving and erection standing proud between trembling thighs. Suzaku had to admire him, only fueling the hot blush on Lelouch's face.

"What?"

Suzaku shook his head. He wouldn't say it again - not only because Lelouch accused him of ruining the mood by talking, but because the words didn't need to be said. Lelouch knew he was beautiful; he didn't need Suzaku to tell him so. Half the  _corps de ballet_ swooned whenever he walked through the door.

He reached down, running his palm over Lelouch's erection, making Lelouch moan and press up into the touch. He gave several long strokes before, fumbling, he undid his own pants with his other hand and slipped his hand inside. Suzaku had to think about how to approach this. He wanted Lelouch, wanted to be inside of him, but he didn't want to hurt Lelouch - and from what he knew (which wasn't much more than hearsay, but still) sex between two men was painful. Lubrication was necessary, and Suzaku could not think of anything to use.

"Here," Suzaku said, bringing his hand back up and pressing his index finger against Lelouch's lips. This would have to do. Lelouch stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, clearly not understanding. "Suck," Suzaku prompted gently, and with a clear amount of hesitation Lelouch did as told, opening his mouth and taking in Suzaku's finger.

It felt...  _Wow._  Suzaku didn't expect to feel the sensation all the way down in his groin. He bit down on his cheek, trying to keep from moaning as Lelouch curled his tongue around the digit and gave a light suck, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Suzaku.  _Oh god_. If Lelouch kept that up Suzaku wouldn't be able to last much longer - and Lelouch seemed to realize it too, the wicked tease, for his eyes lit up mischievously and he gave a playful nip to the tip of Suzaku's finger before taking it into his mouth again. Suzaku felt his cock twitch with excitement, his need mounting with each passing second.

Lelouch took in another finger, and then a third, lavishing them with the same treatment until he had Suzaku leaning down and hiding his face in his neck, stifling groans against his throat.

When he couldn't take it anymore he pulled his hand free, placating Lelouch with a quick kiss before descending on him, moving back down between his legs.

"This will probably hurt a little," he warned, as he lifted Lelouch's legs so they were bent at the knees. He positioned his hand between Lelouch's legs. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

Lelouch licked his lips. "I won't want you to," he said.

Suzaku nodded, though he was sure Lelouch wouldn't be feeling that way for long, and pressed his finger against the tight ring of muscle. There was a moment of resistance and then Lelouch's body opened up for him, accepting the intrusion. Suzaku watched Lelouch's face, saw him wince in discomfort and then try to school his expression back into one of neutrality.

The first finger would be the easiest, Suzaku could safely assume that, and it was with that worry in mind that he decided Lelouch needed a distraction from the pain that might come from Suzaku's preparing him. It took him all of half a second to decide what to do; the desire had been with Suzaku the moment he'd seen Lelouch naked.

Bracing his free hand on the mattress beside Lelouch's hip, Suzaku dipped his head, swirling his tongue around the tip of Lelouch's length in a manner reminiscent of the way Lelouch had teased his finger before. Lelouch actually cried out, his eyes flying open. Suzaku smiled, repeating the action before closing his mouth over the head and sucking lightly.

Lelouch's hands found their way to Suzaku's hair, tangling in the strands. "Oh, Suzaku, that's- that's-" For someone who hadn't seemed fond of talking earlier in this, Lelouch was now quite vocal, responding to each suck and swirl of Suzaku's tongue with half-formed words and little grunts.

Pleased, Suzaku added a second finger inside of Lelouch, meeting the same resistance from the muscle as before. He wasn't sure what sort of preparation would be sufficient, but began to move his fingers in a small, scissoring motion to try and stretch the muscle to accept more of a strain. Lelouch tensed around him several times, and each time Suzaku stopped to make sure he was alright, then took a moment to take more of Lelouch into his mouth. It was difficult to focus on both - almost too much stimulation to his senses, coupled with his desire to be inside of Lelouch and reach completion himself...

A third finger, and there were tears stinging in Lelouch's eyes. He was trying to keep his discomfort to himself, to detract Suzaku from stopping, but Suzaku was paying close enough attention to notice the silent winces and the way Lelouch kept biting the inside of his cheek to keep from protesting. Suzaku flexed his fingers, then extended them again, and Lelouch suddenly arched upwards - in effect pushing himself deeper into Suzaku's mouth and making Suzaku pull off in surprise and fear.

"What is it?" he gasped. "What's wrong?" Lelouch no longer appeared to be in pain. Rather his eyes were wide, pupils blown, and the sounds escaping him sounded more like pleasure than pain.

Lelouch shook his head. "I don't know. That was..." He licked his lips. "Do that again."

Suzaku hesitated then repeated the action, curling his fingers and making Lelouch cry out. With a breathless laugh, Suzaku rubbed his middle finger over the bundle of nerves, glad to be bringing his lover such pleasure and loving the way Lelouch's body trembled around him, each sound that left those parted lips sending shivers down Suzaku's spine and making his cock throb. He rocked forward against the mattress, the friction delicious but not enough.

"Lelouch, I need to - I need-" Was it too soon? Was Lelouch ready? Suzaku had no idea if what he had done to prepare Lelouch was enough.

But Lelouch was nodding, reaching out to Suzaku. " _Yes_ ," he hissed out through clenched teeth, as Suzaku brushed against that spot again. "I want to feel you, I want you i-inside-"

That was all Suzaku needed to hear. He pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the mattress before leaning forward and capturing Lelouch's lips in a heated kiss. Lelouch craned his neck, hungrily returning the kiss and twining his tongue around Suzaku's. He groaned into Suzaku's mouth as Suzaku shifted over him, positioning himself between Lelouch's legs.

Suzaku curled one of his hands under Lelouch's knee, raising Lelouch's leg up slightly. It looked like an awkward position, but Suzaku was hoping it would make things easier. He pressed the tip against Lelouch's entrance.

"I'm-" Suzaku began, only to be cut off by Lelouch's impatient voice.

"Just  _do it_ , Suzaku!"

Lelouch's hand fisted in Suzaku's hair, pulling him down for another kiss. Suzaku's hips snapped forward, and he pushed through the tight ring of muscle, feeling Lelouch tense and shudder around him. Lelouch's eyes clenched shut, a pained near-shout leaving him, nails digging into whatever skin his hands lay against. Suzaku didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything aside from the impossibly tight heat wrapped around him. It was a thousand times better than what he'd imagined. He knew it would feel good, but this was far better than good - far better than amazing.

Perfect. It was absolutely perfect.

Some rational part of Suzaku's mind kicked in, giving him the good sense to ask if Lelouch was all right. It took Lelouch a moment to catch his breath and gather his own bearings, but eventually he managed to nod.

"... I'm f-fine. Keep going."

Suzaku pushed further, biting his lip as more of him was swallowed by Lelouch's body. It took every ounce of self-restraint to keep from just thrusting forward and burying himself to the hilt, but Suzaku was determined to do this the right way. He probably was more cautious than necessary, taking longer than he had to but it was only due to his desire to keep this as painless as possible for his lover, and Lelouch was still showing discomfort. Suzaku pulled out slightly, then rocked forward, and that made Lelouch's breath stutter but it wasn't the same as before, when Suzaku had prepared him. Suzaku needed to find that spot again.

Setting his brow in determination, he rocked forward again, pushing a little deeper this time. Slowly he began a rhythm, in and out, in and out. Lelouch squirmed underneath him and Suzaku knew he hadn't succeeded yet. Part of him thought maybe he should stop; if this was pleasurable only for him (and it was, oh god it was, Suzaku had no idea it would feel so amazing) then it wouldn't be fair to keep going, would it? As much as he hated the thought of stopping, he cared about Lelouch more. He wanted them both to feel good. If they didn't, what was the point?

Suzaku angled Lelouch's hips upward, as a last attempt more than anything, and thrust into him again, and was finally (surprisingly) met with a soft cry from Lelouch. Suzaku did stop then, only for a moment to take in Lelouch's expression: the way his head was tossed back against the mattress, hair in disarray and mouth open wide as he panted for breath. Definitely not a pained reaction. That must have been it then. Suzaku tried again, aiming for the same spot. Once more he was rewarded as Lelouch moaned and clenched around him. The overwhelming tightness made Suzaku inhale sharply.

He began to move, faster this time. He'd found that sweet spot inside of Lelouch and now it could be bliss for both of them. This was how it was meant to be: both of them crying out, feeling the pressure building in the pits of their stomachs and crescendoing into that final wave of ecstasy. And they were nearing the finale; Suzaku could feel it. He caught Lelouch's swollen lips with his own, kissing him desperately as Lelouch countered the movements of Suzaku's body by bucking his hips.

"Suza- _ahh_ , please, Suzaku-"

No sooner had Suzaku's hand reached down between them and wrapped around the base of Lelouch's shaft than Lelouch cried out again, his eyes widening as his body clamped down around Suzaku. The feeling was almost enough to bring Suzaku over the edge but he held on, milking Lelouch's orgasm and coating his hand with his release as he continued to stroke the softening flesh.

Lelouch breathed heavily, still caught in the moment and responding to each of Suzaku's movements with little mewls. Suzaku would have liked to take the time to just admire him, but he was still painfully hard and he didn't think he could hold on much longer. He had to move again. Lelouch grunted softly as Suzaku thrust into him, rebuilding the rhythm he'd established earlier.

It didn't take very much before Lelouch was clenching around him again, and that was enough to undo Suzaku. The spring that had been coiling Suzaku's insides snapped, and his vision hazed out as his orgasm rocked him. He buried himself inside of Lelouch, hips still snapping forward as he spilled into him, too overcome to even make a coherent sound.

For several minutes they laid there, entirely spent and coming down from the high of their orgasms.

Then their eyes met and they started to laugh a little breathlessly, both unable to believe what had happened and overjoyed that it  _had_ really happened. They came together in a kiss that was slow and explorative, tongues twining lazily and lips parting wetly when they pulled away for air. Lelouch's eyes locked with Suzaku's, and he brushed the matted hair from Suzaku's forehead. Suzaku closed his eyes, bowing his head to rest against Lelouch's shoulder. He was content like this, and if he remained wrapped up in Lelouch's arms he could very soon drift off to sleep.

Lelouch's leg slid between Suzaku's and began to very slowly rub against him. Suzaku's eyes snapped back open, meeting the mischievous look on his lover's face and instantly reading what that look meant.

Sleep was then the last thing on his mind.

* * *

 

Heat pressed into Zero's back, curling around him like a chrysalis of comfort. It felt alien, a complete contrast to the chill of underground solitude. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such  _warmth_. Surrounding him, soaking into bare skin...

It was then that he realized he was  _naked_ , and the spell of half sleep was broken. Zero's eyes shot open and he momentarily panicked, for even in the darkness he knew that this was not his room or anywhere in his lair, and his mask, where was his _mask_?

He pushed himself upright, wincing slightly at the odd pain emanating from his...backside (how had  _that_ happened?), when he felt something pull him back down. Once again warmth draped over him, pressing him deeper into what he now realized was another body.

"No, don't leave."

Zero's eyes widened. "Suzaku?" he breathed. He was blind in the darkness, but that  _voice._ It was the voice that made his heart beat faster, that kept him up at night. He lived for that voice, and he would have known it anywhere.

But...they were in bed...and he was...and  _Suzaku_ was...

"Stay," Suzaku said sleepily.

This was a dream. It had to be a dream; there was no other explanation. Suzaku would never act like this - hold him like this. Zero still remembered Suzaku's face when he had kissed him, the torment in his eyes as Zero bared his entire heart, and it had been then that Zero had realized that the only thing Suzaku was capable of offering him were apologies.

"Are you all right?" Suzaku asked, Zero stiffening in his arms. "I didn't...hurt you?"

Zero chuckled.  _Hurt me? Let me count the ways._

"No," Zero said after a moment. "You didn't hurt me."

Because while Suzaku's words and actions could easily cut like a knife to flesh, Zero could never do the same, for he knew that he would not survive if Suzaku left him. Zero would be anything Suzaku desired to prevent that from happening. A friend, a confidante...just never a lover.

Suzaku breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. I mean, I've never...and I've heard...well, I'm glad you're okay. I'd never want to cause you pain."

The sincerity in Suzaku's voice was endearing, almost overpowering the bitter irony of his words, especially when Suzaku nuzzled closer, pressing a kiss to Zero's neck.

Zero allowed his eyes to droop closed, deciding that he didn't care whether or not this was real or fantasy. Suzaku was here, beside him, and that was all that mattered.

_If this is a dream, please, let me never wake up._

"Say you love me," Suzaku murmured into his ear.

There was a pause. "You know I do," Zero whispered, and the words were a sweet misery, because more than anything, he wished he didn't have these feelings. He wished he could be satisfied with Suzaku's friendship, his company, wished he didn't constantly long for something he knew he could never have.

_This fearsome gargoyle who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven. Secretly, secretly..._

And suddenly, the beautiful dream was a nightmare, for he knew it would fade in the garish light of day, leaving him to face the cruel solitude of reality and, on some level, he almost wished he had never met Suzaku, for it was only through him that he had realized loneliness. A child who had never known warmth didn't realize that he was cold, but once he found the sun, even for a single, fleeting moment, it was impossible to forget its brightness.

He felt Suzaku's smile against his skin.

"I love you too," Suzaku said, his voice faintly slurred as he began to drift back to sleep.

They were words Zero had never believed he would hear from Suzaku's lips. Despair gave away to blind joy and for a brief moment he allowed himself to hope, because it wasn't real,  _couldn't_ be real...but what if it was?

"Do you mean that, Suzaku?" Zero asked hesitantly.  _Please God, if you exist, allow me this._

Suzaku let out something that was a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Of course. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I love you-" A smile began to form, and for the first time, rather than trying to pull Suzaku into his darkness, Zero felt his soul reaching towards Suzaku's light-

"-Lelouch."

-and like Icarus who had foolishly flown too close to the sun, Zero crashed and burned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawli: This is the first graphic lemon I've ever written, soo... I'm not sure how I feel about it. Kind of self conscious about it and kind of proud. I'm not used to writing detailed love scenes, usually I prefer the 'tastefully fade to black' route, but... this fic is all about posing challenges for us. Hope it was enjoyable to ya'll. ;D
> 
> Fire_Rose17: Hey, you did way better than I would have. Although, I still like our initial description, which was: AND THEY TOTALLY DID IT! You can't get much better than that. Anyway, don't forget, we would love to see your fanart if any of you are inclined to draw it, and please review!


	7. Seething Shadows, Breathing Lies

"You knew."

C.C. did not appear the least bit threatened by the tone of Zero's voice, despite him having laced it with every ounce of betrayal and animosity he currently felt for the woman. She lounged across his desk like a house cat, idly twirling a strand of hair between her fingers and making no effort to deny the claim. Zero didn't know which he found more infuriating: that she had kept this secret from him, or that she seemed to completely uncaring about it all.

In all his years he had never thought C.C. possessed the power to hurt him. They were accomplices borne of mutual benefit; that had been established long ago, and to think she actually felt some sort of maternal affection for him would have been foolish. But somewhere along the lines, he must have begun to view her as more than just his eyes and ears to the Opera.

Stupid. How could he have been so  _blind_?

After another minute under Zero's enraged scrutiny, C.C. tossed her hair and stretched out, sending papers scattering across the raised dais as she found a more comfortable position on her side. "So what?" she said, sounding just as bored with the conversation as her body language suggested.

Zero snarled. He couldn't even look at her right now. With a jerk he turned away, sauntering over to the organ and slamming his hands down on the keys. He played a few chords, the discordant notes ringing through the open chamber. Normally he would be content to release his anger this way, until eventually the music soothed him and became something beautiful again. But he couldn't calm his mind enough for music to exert its typical healing power over him. All he could think of was waking up in Suzaku's arms, having Suzaku say that he loved him only to have the illusion shattered by another man's name being spoken. Another man...who perhaps was not even another man. None of it made sense. Not only that, but Zero didn't want it to make sense. He did not want to be Lelouch Lamperouge; he  _wasn't_ Lelouch Lamperouge.

"How long have you known?"

"About the lovebirds, or about you and Lelouch?"

"So you knew of it all?" Zero bristled, another round of cacophony sounding from the organ. C.C. didn't even bat an eyelash. When only the echo remained, he spoke again. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

She knew of his feelings; she was wiser than she let on. She knew how he lusted after Suzaku, his jealousy of Lelouch. She had advised him against pursuing Suzaku, yes; insisted he would only hurt himself... but she'd concealed so much of the truth.

"What would you have done," she wondered, "if I had told you?" Zero opened his mouth, only to stop as she posed an even more difficult question. "What  _could_ you have done?"

There was very little he could have done, in all honesty. Zero knew this. It wasn't as if he could go after Lelouch when they were the same person. Not that he had ever seriously tried to anyways, knowing how it would hurt Suzaku if any harm befell the boy.

C.C. sighed. "Besides... I thought it would be useless to tell you about it before I had solid proof they were in a physical relationship. It's not my fault your personality chose to awaken before that."

Zero frowned. "How did you know they weren't?" he said, elaborating a moment afterwards with a small amount of discomfort. It was technically his body, but it still wasn't  _him_ Suzaku had wante - slept with so Zero did not want to think about it. "In a physical relationship, I mean."

Here C.C. smirked, pinning him with a look that spoke of how young she thought he was. Zero hated that look - hated feeling inferior to anyone. She studied him for a moment before giving a short laugh and turning her focus up toward the ceiling. "There were no obvious limps," she said.

The next several minutes passed with Zero alternating between embarrassment (for he did indeed have a slight limp, and no doubt C.C. had noticed it), indignantly thinking C.C. was playing an elaborate trick on him, and furiously working out ways to use this new information to his advantage. If the physical relationship between Suzaku and Lelouch was still new, perhaps it was still possible to sever their ties to each other. Perhaps he could still make Suzaku his, and-

And then where did that leave Lelouch, if they really did share this body?

Eventually Zero deflated on to the piano bench, defeated.

"So which one of us is real?" he wondered.

C.C. gave him another hard look from her position on the desk. "Neither of you," she said. "Both of you."

"I don't care to hear any of your riddles," Zero hissed.

"Fine." C.C. shrugged. "You are one in the same. There is no Lelouch Lamperouge without Zero, there is no Zero without Lelouch Lamperouge. You were born as one."

But how was that possible? Try as he might, Zero just could not wrap his head around the idea that Lelouch was somewhere asleep within his own subconscious. It didn't make any sense. Such things were the subjects of books; they didn't really happen.

"I thought you'd be happy," C.C. drawled. When Zero only answered her with a questioning look, she elaborated. "Suzaku loves you."

"He doesn't love me." A note of despondency managed to penetrate through the anger in his voice. Even if they were the same person, it wasn't Zero who Suzaku kissed, caressed, embraced at night. If anything, this discovery had only verified that Lelouch would always be the one Suzaku chose. "It's always been  _him_."

"But you  _are_ him."

"I'm not!"

Even if they shared a body, they would never be the same. This new information changed very little. Zero was still alone, as he always had been. Suzaku had still denied him and betrayed him, choosing Lelouch and an uncertain future over what Zero had shown he could provide for him.

Sharing a body made getting rid of Lelouch more difficult, but it would not be impossible. He just needed to think harder, plan smarter - and on his own; C.C. had proven herself untrustworthy. There was a chance she would play the role of double-agent, informing Lelouch of his plans when Zero was not in control of the body. He was on his own from this point forward - and, if he could figure out a way, hopefully he could remain that way. Suppress Lelouch's consciousness so that he remained in control permanently. There had to be a way...

"You're planning something," C.C. said, amber eyes narrow.

Yes. Yes he was, and she would not be excluded from those plans. Zero's lips twitched upwards as his hands once again found the organ keys, the music of his masterpiece filling the still air. He thought of Suzaku, asleep in his tiny bedroom and completely unaware, and the noise only intensified.

He would make them curse the day they went against his wishes. For the secrets, the lies - for every betrayal, he would make them pay.  _All_ of them.

C.C. chuckled, walking around to perch herself on the organ stool. "Still the vengeful child, even after all this time."

Before Zero could open his mouth to retort, C.C.'s lips found his. There was no love shared, no passion lost in the kiss. It was an empty, emotionless act, and the only reason Zero didn't push her away immediately was that shock had frozen him to the spot. He couldn't fathom why she would  _do_  this. She couldn't have possibly thought  _this_ would distract him, so why-

And then the drowsiness set in. His mind swam, and he crumpled bonelessly into C.C.'s waiting arms.

"Damn  _witch_ ," Zero gasped, C.C.'s face becoming a blur of colors and shadows.

C.C. smiled grimly. "Of course. That's what makes me C.C."

Gently, she stroked Zero's face, innocent in sleep, and sighed, for she knew that the situation was quickly spiraling out of her control. She was only delaying the inevitable.

* * *

Suzaku was slightly surprised to wake up and find Lelouch nuzzled against him. He shouldn't have felt that way, for at this point Lelouch in his bed was hardly a rare sight, but something simmering in the back of his mind told him there was something very wrong with this picture. He could have sworn Lelouch left last night...

But no, Suzaku was being absurd. There was nothing strange about this morning.

...Other than the fact that he was still naked, of course.

Suzaku smiled, sitting up slowly to better admire the way the morning light rippled across Lelouch's bare skin. He loved watching Lelouch sleep. It made him look younger, innocent in a way he never had been. Suzaku would say Lelouch looked childlike, but even as a child Lelouch had been haunted by shadows far too dark for a mere ten-year old.

But who was Suzaku to talk? He was the same.

But it was a little strange, though, how Lelouch was positioned. Usually Lelouch tended to sprawl across Suzaku's tiny bed - jealously hoarding space and covers, with his legs intertwined with Suzaku's in a way that often inspired heat that had nothing to do with temperature. Now, however, he was curled up on his side, hands and legs tucked in neatly. It was almost as if he had been posed.

Suzaku shook his head, forcibly dislodging the lurking paranoia, and with a smile he paused to kiss Lelouch's brow before carefully pulling himself out of bed.

Glancing at the sheets, Suzaku winced slightly. He'd definitely have to wash those, hopefully without anyone noticing their soiled state.  _Those_ kind of comments were the last thing he needed.

Suzaku sighed, deciding that he would deal with the problem later, and proceeding on a scavenger hunt for his clothes. Rehearsal wouldn't be for another forty minutes, but now that Suzaku was awake he knew going back to sleep was unlikely. He might as well get an early start.

Like every morning, he paused near the piano to greet the photo of his sensei. He knew that it was a silly habit, but he had bid Tohdoh good morning every day for ten years, and he wasn't going to break that streak now.

Well... every day except for that last morning. He had left for work before Suzaku had woken up... and before Suzaku knew it, some man he barely recognized had come rushing to the house, telling him Tohdoh had collapsed-

Suzaku banged his hands down on the keys violently, forcing the memories to disperse, before glancing back nervously at Lelouch. The singer slept on. Lelouch was strange in that respect. Some days the slightest shift in air pressure could rouse him, others he wouldn't wake up if a gong sounded next to his head.

Suzaku took a breath, experimentally tapping one of the keys. He needed to calm himself down. Perhaps a little music would help.

Lightly, Suzaku plucked out a simple, slightly silly tune. It was a beginner's piece, the only one he had ever managed to play to his old tutor's satisfaction. It wasn't perfect, of course. His hands were clumsy, calloused in all the wrong places, and Suzaku's memory of the notes was vague.

Suzaku's heart nearly stopped when hands covered his own, guiding him to the correct keys.

_No. Nonononono. He found me. He's going to take me back. I can't! I_ _**won't** _ _!_

A soft chuckle sounded close to Suzaku's ear. "Only you would play the Flea March so early in the morning."

Relief nearly stole Suzaku's breath. "It's you, Lelouch."

"Of course it's me," Lelouch replied, giving Suzaku's hands a light squeeze before pushing them towards the key of F. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No," Suzaku lied, feeling ridiculous. Of course they were Lelouch's hands. He would know them anywhere, had held them in his grasp, watched them gesture emphatically as Lelouch spoke. He had them memorized, just like the rest of Lelouch.

But the weight of the palms against his hands, the long fingers, and graceful, deft movements... the similarity to those hands at the organ was uncanny, almost unnerving...

"I didn't know you played," Lelouch remarked, pausing their little duet.

Suzaku laughed, diffusing the slight tension that had formed in his stomach. "Not much. This piece is pretty much the only one I can do with relatively little damage. What did you call it? The Flea March?"

Lelouch nodded. "Do you have a different name for it in Japanese?"

"In Japanese, it's called  _Neko Funjatta_ , which basically means, 'I stepped on a cat'."

Lelouch laughed. "I like that. Still, it seems a shame that this is the only piece you have mastery of. Would you like me to teach you a few basics on the piano?"

"No!" Suzaku said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, he realized, judging by the slightly hurt look Lelouch gave him. But Suzaku couldn't retract his refusal. Lelouch teaching him the piano felt wrong somehow, like he was being disloyal to his true teacher, and the idea only brought memories mixed with fear and guilt in equal measure. Plus he would always be comparing the two, judging strengths and weaknesses, similarities and differences. He was determined to keep Lelouch and Zero separate in his mind. He wasn't even comfortable that Lelouch's  _hands_ were similar to Zero's. "No," Suzaku repeated, voice gentler. "I'm unteachable, trust me, and I love you far too much to subject to my murdered melodies."

Lelouch sighed. "Fine, its your decision." He glanced at the clock and groaned. "Seven thirty and wide awake. It's your fault, playing piano at such an ungodly hour."

Suzaku rolled his eyes. "For you, anything before noon is an ungodly hour."

Lelouch smirked, sliding his foot up Suzaku's ankle. "You still woke me up. How are you going to make it up to me?" he purred.

Suzaku blushed. " _Again_? Right now? You have rehearsal soon!"

"We have time, and it's not as if I haven't skipped rehearsal before," Lelouch countered, his foot making leisurely circles on Suzaku's leg.

"Yeah, but we have to keep up appearances, right? I mean it's not like management is just going to let us run away together, not with your contract. We can't let them get suspicious," Suzaku pointed out, miraculously managing to maintain a logical argument despite what Lelouch's foot was doing to him.

The ministrations abruptly stopped, making Suzaku almost groan in protest.

"Run away together?" Lelouch repeated quietly. There was something wrong with his voice, a strange tension in his words and in the atmosphere that hadn't been there before, and for a split second, Suzaku could have sworn Lelouch's eyes flashed crimson.

"Yes," Suzaku answered, suddenly uncertain. "We talked about it last night, remember? You still want to, right?"

Because he didn't know what they would do if Lelouch changed his mind. They were not safe here, would never be safe here, and Suzaku couldn't -  _refused_ to - leave without Lelouch.

"O-of course," Lelouch replied with a smile that eased Suzaku's heart. "Of course I do. In fact, I have been planning for that very purpose."

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "You mean since last night?"

Lelouch laughed. "You don't honestly think I haven't thought about this before now! I think New Year's would be the best time, during the Masquerade Ball."

Suzaku hesitated. "But... that's weeks away."

"Only two," Lelouch retorted. "That will be plenty of time for me to make arrangements. We'll make an appearance, and slip out when everyone's too drunk to notice. It's perfect."

"I guess so," Suzaku agreed reluctantly.

Lelouch smiled and cupped Suzaku's cheek. "Stop worrying so much. Nothing's going to happen. We'll be out of here before the clock strikes midnight. And then we can spend the New Year, as well as the rest of our lives, together."

Suzaku smiled, reassured despite himself. "All right."

"Good," Lelouch said, standing up and allowing Suzaku to admire the way he looked in Suzaku's shirt (and nothing else). "Now I'm going to get ready for rehearsal."

"So you are going, then?" Suzaku asked, a bit disappointed. He had been getting on board with the early morning sex idea (he blamed Lelouch's legs).

Lelouch winked. "Of course. After all, I have to keep up appearances, right?"

* * *

Two weeks had seemed both impossibly long and far too short an amount of time to plan for their escape. A great deal of that time Suzaku spent worrying about Zero discovering what was going on and appearing to put an end to it and take Suzaku back once and for all. This made the hours of the day drag by.

His worry was only quelled when in Lelouch's presence, wrapped up in his warm arms and letting those full lips rationalize his fear away with smooth words and hot kisses. Still, there was always a moment, usually at night after they were sated and Lelouch already asleep, when Suzaku held Lelouch a little tighter than necessary, trying not to imagine what horrible fate might await him if Zero were to ever make good on his threats.

Lelouch managed to stay calm and focused the entire time, maintaining his charming, if a tad lazy facade in front of the company, showing up for rehearsals on his own schedule, as per usual, while spending the rest of his time making preparations. There was a small suitcase - stolen from the prop closet - stored underneath Suzaku's bed, which they added something more to every day. Most things, they'd decided, they could live without. Packing lightly was essential when making a quick getaway, and they both agreed that bringing anything more than a few changes of clothes and sentimental keepsakes was unnecessary.

On Christmas Eve, just a week before the Masquerade ball, Lelouch surprised Suzaku with a set of tickets. Suzaku had scowled when he'd been presented with the perfectly wrapped little box; they'd agreed not to spend money on gifts. The only thing that made him accept was Lelouch's insistence that it was something for both of them.

"The Damocles is the crowning jewel of ocean liners," Lelouch explained as Suzaku held up the second-class tickets, something Lelouch never should have been able to afford on an actor's salary.

Suzaku began to examine the tickets. Not that he'd ever be able to tell the difference between a real and a fake, he just wanted to make sure this wasn't his imagination. "How did you get these?"

Lelouch smirked, fanning himself with his own ticket in a manner more similar to Fop Two than Suzaku was sure Lelouch would appreciate him pointing out. "Some fool at the tavern bet them in a poker match."

Suzaku's amusement instantly vanished, replaced by disapproval. Before he could voice it out loud, Lelouch was already talking again, that natural talent for getting others to see things his way kicking in.

"It was too good an opportunity to pass up. We needed a place to go, and traveling by sea is far more exciting than traveling by land. I thought for sure you'd agree."

Suzaku did, even if he couldn't imagine himself a passenger on the luxurious ocean liners he'd seen anchored at the city docks. "It's not that," Suzaku sighed. "I just don't like the idea of you gambling. What if you'd lost?" The meager amount they'd saved would have been gone for good, and then they truly would have been out of luck.

Lelouch seemed to read his thoughts yet again. He slid closer to Suzaku, pressing their foreheads together. "But I didn't lose. In fact... I won a little bit more than the tickets. That was going to be your next present."

Suzaku's mouth fell open as Lelouch pulled a small wad of bills, about equal to what was stashed in the suitcase beneath the bed, from his trouser pocket. Before Suzaku could say anything else about gambling, Lelouch kissed him, and continued to kiss him until the thoughts disappeared from his mind entirely.

"Where will these even take us?" Suzaku asked, flushed and a little breathless but grinning stupidly once they parted.

"The Chinese Federation," Lelouch answered, taking both tickets and moving to tuck them and the money he'd won safely away in their suitcase. "I hope you don't get seasick. It's going to be at least a few days aboard the ship."

Of all the places Suzaku expected them to run away together, the Chinese Federation wasn't among them. It made the most sense considering it was closest, and Lelouch was nothing if not practical, but with how often Suzaku heard him talk of the EU it was honestly surprising to think they would end up anywhere else. "China..." Suzaku leaned back against the headboard, watching Lelouch zip up the suitcase and store it away again. "And then what?" he wondered. "Once we're there, what do we do?"

Lelouch smiled and climbed back on the bed. "Whatever we want. We could stay in China, or we could keep moving. We could see the world."

As much as Suzaku liked the idea, he would prefer to settle down somewhere. His life held enough uncertainty as it was; he didn't need any more. "You're from France, right?" He vaguely recalled Lelouch mentioning it when they were younger. He knew Lelouch's memory of his past was foggy, but France had always been one thing he was sure about.

Lelouch nodded.

"What's it like?"

"I don't..." Lelouch hesitated. "I don't think I spent much time there. I don't think I lived there so much as visited." He shook his head. "It's very beautiful. I do remember that. And an open-minded country. A lot of the EU is like that, from what I've read. A relationship like ours isn't considered unnatural, or even uncommon."

Suzaku closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself and Lelouch in such a place - where they could be open in their love for each other, and not have to fear persecution from racist Britannians or jealous phantoms. "I want to go there," he decided, opening his eyes and capturing Lelouch's gaze. Lelouch took his hand, twining their fingers and Suzaku pulled him close. "I want to live in France, with you."

"Then we'll do that. We'll take the Damocles to the Chinese Federation, and from there we'll make our way to France."

It sounded so simple, but in reality such a journey would take months - possibly even longer - to complete. Aside from a means of transportation, they would need far more money than the little they'd saved and won from Lelouch's gambling. One look at Lelouch's wistful expression, however, was enough for Suzaku to set his jaw in determination and vow to do whatever it took to make it happen. Suzaku knew Lelouch's will was equally as strong, and together they had a good chance of accomplishing anything they set their minds to.

If nothing else, it was a goal for them to set. Something for them to look forward to and dream about at night. And even if they never reached France... as long as they were together, that was all that mattered.

Suzaku sighed, leaning his head on Lelouch's shoulder. "I didn't get you anything," Suzaku admitted quietly.

Lelouch smirked. "I beg to differ. I see a rather large gift right in front of me." His fingers playfully ran down Suzaku's chest and lightly looped under his belt as Lelouch leaned forward, voice husky in Suzaku's ear. "It just needs to be unwrapped."

Suzaku chuckled. "And how do you know this gift is for you?"

"Of course it's for me," Lelouch insisted, pulling Suzaku's collar down to reveal the small bruises left there. "Look, my name is all over it. Here-" lightly Lelouch licked one of the marks. "-and here." His tongue moved downward, creating fresh marks and darkening the old ones.

"Careful," Suzaku murmured. "Can't let people see-"

And then Lelouch finished unbuckling Suzaku's pants and plunged his fingers into his lover's waistband, eliciting a low groan deep in Suzaku's throat.

_Oh, to hell with it._

Suzaku pressed Lelouch into the mattress, lips caressing Lelouch's mouth as his tongue slipped between already parted lips. Lelouch sighed into the kiss, one hand tangling into Suzaku's hair, the other still leisurely stroking his partner's cock. Suzaku squirmed, desperately trying to free himself from his confining breeches without pulling away from Lelouch, and the friction created made Lelouch gasp.

Suzaku released Lelouch's mouth in order to breathe, grinning, and started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Lelouch frowned and swatted Suzaku's hands away. "No, it's my present.  _I'll_ be the one to unwrap it."

Always with that air of entitlement. Suzaku found it no less amusing than usual, and found himself bending to Lelouch's will without resistance, chuckling and allowing Lelouch to unbutton the shirt with expert little flicks of his fingers as Suzaku finished kicking off his pants.

"I don't think it's fair that I'm the only one getting naked here," Suzaku complained, as his shirt was pulled the rest of the way off and tossed aside without another thought.

Lelouch smiled, placing a hand on Suzaku's toned chest, right above his heart. His eyes roved the bare skin in front of him, desire apparent but suppressed for the time being as Lelouch laid back down, opening himself up for Suzaku. "Then maybe you should do something about that."

Suzaku mouth was at Lelouch's collar, fingers fumbling at the clasps of his shirt as his tongue followed the trail of revealed skin. At his right nipple, he stopped and gave it a light nip. The muffled moan he received in response indicated he was doing something right.

Suzaku grinned, circling the hardened nipple with his tongue, blowing soft warm air on the inflamed skin as his hand skated across Lelouch's chest to caress the other.

"D-don't tease me," Lelouch gasped.

Smiling against Lelouch's skin, Suzaku allowed himself to be pushed downwards, tongue briefly dipping into his navel before coming face to face with the erection straining against Lelouch's pants. Suzaku grinned, kissing the flesh through the material.

"G-get on with it!" Lelouch ordered (or was he begging?) "Suza-Ah!"

With very little ceremony, Suzaku pulled Lelouch's pants down and swallowed him whole, tongue stroking the base as he pulled himself in and out.

Lelouch tugged on Suzaku's hair, only a split second's warning before Lelouch came, Suzaku pulling out quickly to avoid getting it into his mouth.

Lelouch frowned at the sticky mess, panting. "Disgusting."

"It's not disgusting," Suzaku assured him, kissing Lelouch's mouth. "It's you. Do you want to keep going or-"

Lelouch scowled, pulling on Suzaku's hair so hard it almost hurt. "If you stop now, I'll kill you."

Wordlessly, Suzaku assented, pushing Lelouch onto his stomach, but Lelouch placed a hand on his chest, halting his movement.

"No," Lelouch protested. "I want to look at you. I want to see your face when you come."

Suzaku eyed him dubiously. "Lelouch-" But he was abruptly cut off when Lelouch rubbed his erection, taking advantage of Suzaku's distraction to clumsily flip their positions.

Smiling coyly, Lelouch straddled Suzaku's lap, hands straying down his sides as he ground down slowly.

Suzaku scowled, but the effect was significantly less threatening when combined with the bright color of his cheeks. "Now who's the tease?"

Nuzzling Suzaku's neck, Lelouch chuckled. "I suppose that would be me. But somehow, I don't think you mind.  _This_ part of you certainly doesn't."

Suzaku let out a low whine as the unbearable friction continued. "L-lelouch, I can't... I'm not going to hold out for much longer!"

There was a moment's pause, and Suzaku whimpered quietly as Lelouch looked down at him, considering. Then he smirked.

"You better come inside me then," Lelouch whispered.

Suzaku shuddered, putting his hand to his lips to coat his fingers, but Lelouch caught them instead.

"Allow me," he purred, swirling his tongue seductively around the digits, caressing all the way to the knuckle in a way that was _not_ helping Suzaku's restraint.

It was a bit awkward to prepare Lelouch while he was sitting on him. The violet eyed boy had to sort of crouch on Suzaku's lap, raising his butt in a way that, while visually stimulating, could not have been comfortable.

But none of that mattered when the first digit entered him, Lelouch gasping softly as Suzaku's forefinger gently pushed through the flesh. Lelouch allowed himself a moment to grow accustomed to the foreign invader before nodding, allowing Suzaku to insert the second. He had to quell the urge to squirm as the two scissored inside him and a third finger was added.

"I'm ready," Lelouch murmured.

Suzaku hesitated. "Are you sur-"

Lelouch proved his certainty when he pressed himself down onto Suzaku's cock.

Suzaku let out something that was caught between a moan and a scream as the unexpected heat engulfed him. Lelouch wrapped his legs around Suzaku's waist, allowing himself a moment to adjust before lifting himself up and coming down again. Slowly, carefully, in out in out, looking for that one special spot.

But Lelouch, inexperienced with the new position as well as physical exertion in general, couldn't find the correct angle to properly stimulate himself, his movements sluggish as his face contorted in pain.

"Let me help you," Suzaku said, gently gripping Lelouch's hips and pulling him down hard before he could protest.

Lelouch eyes widened as he threw his head back, moaning his approval.

Suzaku grinned.  _Ah, there it is._

Suzaku picked up the pace in earnest, somehow managing to jerk his hips up and pull Lelouch down in unison (he'd always been good at multitasking), angling to hit the spot again and again.

"Lelouch," Suzaku moaned. "Oh god, Lelouch, you feel so-"

In that exact moment, Lelouch tightened around Suzaku's shaft, and Suzaku let go.

Lelouch smiled, swallowing Suzaku's moan with a kiss as Suzaku came, spurting into Lelouch's body.

"Beautiful," he murmured into Suzaku's ear, because he was. Emerald eyes dilated, lips parted, face flushed with pure  _rapture_ , Suzaku was the most beautiful thing Lelouch had ever seen. Suzaku gave an unintelligible whimper as his answer as he fell back into the bed, grunting lightly as Lelouch literally collapsed against his chest.

"I'm sorry," Suzaku panted, eyeing the sticky white fluid flowing down Lelouch's legs a bit guiltily. "I should have warned you to pull out, but-"

Lelouch's arms wrapped around him, pulling Suzaku close. "It's okay. It's you, right? If it's you, it's okay."

Suzaku was allowed only a moment to bask in the afterglow before he felt Lelouch's fingers travel up his stomach in light, spider-like motions.

"But," Lelouch added, grinning mischievously, "if you really do feel bad about it, I can think of a few ways you can make amends.

Suzaku chuckled, noting Lelouch's reignited arousal poking against his hip.

_It's going to be a long night_.

It was only several rounds later, long after midnight, that Suzaku pulled his exhausted lover into his arms, nuzzling close to whisper in his ear:

"Merry Christmas, Lelouch."

* * *

New Year's Eve consisted of two parties, one for the managers, directors, actors and of course prominent sponsors, another for everyone else. The official party was the Masquerade Ball, an event widely considered to be one of the most fashionable and coveted invitations of the season. Suzaku had known people to have planned their costumes for weeks, some in absolute secrecy to prevent imitation. No expense was spared, and everything was polished down to the last crystal on the chandelier.

Then there was the second party, the party for the scene-shifters, the stagehands, the door openers, anyone whose work in the Opera went unnoticed and largely unappreciated. This was launched with significantly less ceremony backstage, typically only consisting of a fiddle, some dice, a deck of cards, and plenty of booze stolen from the "real" party.

Suzaku fully expected to attend the latter (and by attend, he meant hide in his room until everyone was passed out), rendezvousing with Lelouch later on in order for them to make their getaway, and personally he preferred it that way. He saw no point in all the pomp and circumstance of the Masquerade Ball when you just ended up piss drunk with a hangover in the morning no matter which you went to.

However Lelouch, as always, had other ideas.

"What do you think?" Lelouch asked, leaning against Suzaku's door frame in costume. He was dressed in a black tailcoat with gold trim and bright gold buttons. Resting loosely around his shoulders was a long black cape richly embroidered with golden feathers that matched the embroidery on his cuffs and around his collar. The material pooled around Lelouch's feet, ending in crimson wings reaching out towards the end of the cape, and when Lelouch spread out his arms, it gave the illusion of a bird about to take flight. More flashes of crimson trailed along his cuffs, the white of his undershirt peeking through and contrasting the black. Finally, to finish off the costume was a cravat loosely tied, showing off a pale neck that drew Suzaku's eye.

"You look..." Suzaku breathed, unable to even find a word that would give Lelouch justice. When words failed him a second time, Suzaku gave up and just kissed him.

Lelouch beamed. "Good. That's what I was going for."

"Where did you get that costume?" Suzaku asked.  _And are you going to have to return it?_ Because the ensemble probably had about a million buttons that needed to be undone in order to remove it, and Suzaku was up for the challenge.

"I made it out of odds and ends I found in the back of the costume room," Lelouch explained.

Suzaku frowned disapprovingly. "You stole your costume from the theatre?"

"I prefer to think I liberated it," Lelouch retorted. "It's not as if anything on the back shelf is actually used anymore. It's all out of date relics, falling apart at the seams and practically begging to be eaten by moths. It's a pity, because there's a gold mine of materials just waiting to be utilized. Wait until you see the costume I made for you!"

"For  _me_?" Suzaku repeated. "What are you talking about? I'm not going."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "Of course you are, now try this on."

A bundle wrapped in brown paper was shoved in Suzaku's hands.

"I  _can't_ go," Suzaku protested. "I'm only a scene-shifter, and an Eleven at that."

"That's what the mask is for," Lelouch replied, unfazed. "Although it is a shame to veil eyes as lovely as yours."

Suzaku blushed, eyeing the delicate mask on top of the bundle dubiously. "You honestly think that covering my eyes and my cheekbones is going to render me invisible?"

"No, but it will make you look like you belong. If you look and act like you belong, people respond accordingly," Lelouch assured him.

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "And you know this from experience?"

Lelouch smiled. "Something like that. Now trust me and change your clothes, otherwise I'll strip you myself."

Suzaku sighed. There was really no arguing with Lelouch when he got an idea in his head.

In the end Suzaku undressed by himself, but Lelouch  _did_ have to help him get the costume on, for it was every bit as heavy and complicated as Lelouch's.

"I look ridiculous," Suzaku declared after a single glance in the mirror.

His costume was white, most likely meant as a contrast to Lelouch's black. The waistcoat, complete with tails, had golden lapels and cuffs, both of which were secured in place with white flaps and gold buttons. On his shoulders were a pair of those golden tassels he always saw on high ranking military uniforms (Lelouch called them epaulettes). His undershirt was simple save for the golden wing embroidery near the hem, and resting at his throat was a white cravat, neatly tucked into place (unlike Lelouch's) and secured with a golden pin.

_At least I don't have a cape,_ Suzaku thought with some relief.

"You don't look ridiculous," Lelouch assured him, wrapping his arms around Suzaku's waist and kissing his cheek. "You look beautiful."

Suzaku blushed again, ducking his head. "Don't say that. I'm not a girl."

Lelouch laughed. "Is beauty exclusive to the fairer sex? I think not."

Suzaku frowned, tugging at his waistcoat. "It doesn't fit quite right. It's a bit tight in some places."

Lelouch smirked. "On the contrary, it fits you perfectly."

And there was Lelouch's hand. On Suzaku's ass. He had to wonder exactly  _what_ Lelouch had hoped to emphasize in the development of the costume. Had he not been sufficiently covered by the tails of his waistcoat, he would have thought that Lelouch had left him without a cape for a possibly less than pure reason.

"But something is missing," Lelouch remarked. "Here." He placed the mask (white, naturally, with gold designs trimming the edges and extending from the eye sockets) over Suzaku's face, securing it in place with the white ribbon.

"Look at you," Lelouch murmured, and Suzaku looked, really looked, only to discover that he had disappeared. In his place was a dashing young man, resplendent in gold and white, emerald eyes glittering behind the mask, cutting a dashing figure that was completely unlike Suzaku.

Lelouch sighed. "Now if only you had a sword. Then it would be perfect. My perfect Lancelot."

Suzaku glanced at Lelouch with some surprise. "Is that who I am? Lancelot?"

"Mm, yes," Lelouch said, leaning on Suzaku's shoulder. "King Arthur's bravest, most trusted knight."

"Which makes you King Arthur?" Suzaku questioned.

Lelouch smiled and spread out his arms, cape sweeping dramatically. "Of course, can't you tell?"

_Not really_ , Suzaku thought. Lelouch's costume was certainly grand, and almost ridiculously ornate, but not particularly regal. Rather, it was mysterious and alluring, like Faust's Mephistopheles.

But Suzaku was willing enough to play along. He got on one knee, eyes down and hand over his heart as if he was pledging his loyalty. "I am at your service, your Majesty."

Lelouch ran a hand softly through Suzaku's hair, but when he spoke, his voice was distant, as if lost in thought. "Arthur and Lancelot were not just king and servant. They were also friends, the best of friends. But Lancelot betrayed Arthur."

Suzaku winced as Lelouch knotted a clump of hair in his fist, fingers clenching tightly.

"And why was that?" Suzaku asked hesitantly, unable to look Lelouch in the eye for fear of what he would find there. Something had shifted again, that strange tension that came and went in a blink of an eye.

"Lancelot fell in love, a love that blinded him from the man he had sworn his allegiance to, the man who had given him  _everything_. Inevitably, it lead to both their downfall."

Suzaku forced his eyes upwards, still not quite able to meet Lelouch's gaze, but focusing on his face. Gently, he pulled Lelouch's hand out of his hair, twining their fingers together.

"I'm not going to betray you," Suzaku promised, kissing Lelouch's fingers. "I love you.  _Only_ you. You know that."  _You do know that, right?_ It shouldn't have been a question after all they'd been through, all they'd done together, but it was.

Lelouch face softened as he pulled Suzaku upwards and into his arms. "Of course I do, Suzaku," he whispered tenderly. "Of course I do, and I trust you completely. There's no need for us to worry about a Guenevere."

Suzaku smiled, unable to quite understand what had just occurred, but relieved that the strange episode had passed.

"Well, now that's settled, shall we go my liege?" Suzaku asked, extending his arm.

Lelouch shook his head. "Not yet." He produced a black mask trimmed thickly in gold (naturally). Swirls of the golden design wrapped around the eye sockets, and in the center, where the bridge of the nose met the forehead, was a gold fan, unfurled like a peacock's tail.

" _Now_ I'm ready," Lelouch announced. "Let us join the paper faces on parade."

* * *

Suzaku, from where he stood trying to make himself invisible in a back corner of the atrium, tugged uncomfortably at his cravat. The costume still felt cumbersome and completely alien on him, even though he'd had almost an hour to adjust to the weight and feel of the fine material.

The stares he was receiving certainly didn't help ease his discomfort. The white and gold mask Lelouch designed for him effectively hid his identity, but that was all. Suzaku had tried to push aside his insecurities and mingle with the crowd but everyone eyed him warily, as if they could smell poverty on him. Suzaku ducked his head to avoid the curious glances and craning necks of several tittering girls as they passed, desperately wishing that Lelouch was at his side. At least then he would have someone to talk to, to make it appear as if he belonged. Lelouch, however, had been pulled away almost the instant they arrived at the ball by Cecile, who'd scolded him for showing up before the official announcement.

What announcement, neither Suzaku nor Lelouch hadn't the faintest idea. Up until that point they had accredited Lelouch's invitation to the Masquerade to his slowly growing popularity among the Opera's patrons.

Now, as Suzaku listened to Lloyd and Bartley call everyone's attention to the grand staircase at the center of the atrium, he thought it might just be more than that.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lloyd called at the same moment Bartley stammered, "Esteemed guests!"

Several giggles erupted from the attendees over their host's costumes: Lloyd wearing a bright yellow coat and a gigantic hat festooned with multicolored ribbons, feathers, and playing cards; Bartley as the embodiment of some Western Zodiac figure Suzaku couldn't remember the name of.

"Welcome to the Avalon Opera's annual Masquerade ball-"

"Our prologue," Lloyd interrupted, raising his champagne flute, "to a bright new year! Congratulations!"

Bartley shot Lloyd a glare, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Before we begin the evening's festivities we would like to introduce our upcoming season's headlining performers."

Shirley was introduced first, pale and wide-eyed and gripping the railing of the staircase tightly, as if she might faint any moment. Despite the jealousy he'd felt for her in the past, Suzaku was glad for her. She hadn't been at the Opera for very long, from what he'd heard, and already she'd progressed very far in her career, following along in Milly's footsteps to becoming a leading lady. She possessed Milly's same optimism and friendliness as well. Beautiful on the inside as well as on the outside, and she did indeed look stunning, dressed in an emerald gown and matching headpiece, her hair falling around her flushed face in gentle curls. The wings attached to her costume bounced slightly as she walked, leaving a trail of glitter behind as she curtsied before the applauding patrons and took the arm of a young man waiting to escort her.

Kallen came next, the strips of her yellow and crimson gown making it seem as if she were being engulfed by the fiery passion she exuded on stage. She bowed instead of curtsied, much to the amusement of the crowd. Suzaku clapped enthusiastically for her, for while he did not know her well she had defended him in the past when she'd had no reason to. Not to mention she was extremely talented. Gino Weinberg, adorned in colorful jester's garb, appeared the foot of the stairs to escort her, sparking another round of excited murmurs. Suzaku could just imagine what the society column in the next issue of the newspaper would be saying about them.

"The most heavenly diva of this, or any, age - Milly Ashford."

Milly floated down the staircase in a gown befitting a queen, all royal purples and reds, and curtsied grandly. The crowd went wild for her, cheering, whistling, even throwing roses as if she had just sung one of her famous arias. She blew kisses, smiling and enjoying every moment of the attention. Suzaku could have sworn that for an instant her eyes met his, and she winked, but all too quickly the moment passed. Lloyd escorted her personally to the side, and Suzaku heard another rush of whispers about engagements.

"We suffered a great loss at the Avalon this year," Bartley said, tone somber. He launched into a brief speech about Clovis; how he rose to fame and the many roles he graced the stage performing. The only thing that kept Suzaku from rolling his eyes was the stab of guilt when he remembered that Clovis's death had been ultimately his fault. "-we have discovered a remarkable new talent within the Avalon. He will be appearing as lead tenor in many of this season's operas... Lelouch Lamperouge!"

Suzaku's eyes widened.

Lelouch appeared at the top of the staircase, tall and darkly enchanting, attracting every eye below him. He was breathtaking, his eyes two piercing amethysts shining in bright contrast to the black costume, mesmerizing his entire audience. Suzaku could not look away. Those eyes managed to find him through the crowd, beckoning him, and Suzaku realized he'd moved closer at some point. When Lelouch arrived at the base of the stairs Suzaku was not even three feet away.

A petite girl stepped closer to him, but Lelouch held out his hand to Suzaku. "Take my arm," he instructed, earning a puzzled look from the girl and several gasps from the crowd.

"Lelouch..." Suzaku was intensely aware he was now the main focus of the room, everyone craning their neck to know who Lelouch Lamperouge, lead tenor of the Avalon Opera, had chosen to escort him over the pretty ballerina who had obviously been selected for him.

Lelouch's arm slipped through his own, fingers curling into the material of Suzaku's jacket as he smirked and waved at their gaping audience.

As soon as they were off to the side, Suzaku tore away from him. "What was that about?" he demanded.

"What?"

"Why did you come to me? There was someone there for you."

"You're my lover," Lelouch pointed out matter-of-factly. "Why should my lover not escort me?"

"Because!" Suzaku shook his head, unable to believe Lelouch capable of such stupidity. He never should have agreed to this. There was no way they could make an unnoticed escape now; not with Lelouch's new celebrity status and that little display of practically announcing their relationship to the upper crust of Area 11.

"Suzaku..."

Lelouch's hands were at either side of Suzaku's face, pulling him in for a kiss, but Suzaku shied away. "Don't," he said, hating the way Lelouch's eyes flashed briefly with hurt. Suzaku hated to do this but Lelouch had to understand... They couldn't freely express themselves that way. Not now, not  _here_ of all places. "Everyone's watching. They'll see-"

"Then let them see!" Lelouch grasped Suzaku's hands in his own, looking at him imploringly. "Being in love is not a crime. I don't care if I'm ridiculed, or ostracized... Nothing will ever make me ashamed of loving you." Unbidden, Suzaku blushed, not knowing what to say to such a declaration of love. He looked away quickly, ashamed of himself, and Lelouch sighed. "What are you so afraid of?"

He didn't know, but his heart thrummed in his chest, terror chilling his blood as his eyes flitted about the room in search of some unknown threat. Lelouch was there, beside him; there should be nothing to fear because there was no obstacle, no matter how horrific, they could not overcome together.

"There's nothing these people can do to us," Lelouch assured him. "We're leaving."

That was true. It would be more difficult to slip away unnoticed now, but they would still find their opportunity and seize it. Soon they would be far away from this place, and none of it would matter.

"Let's not argue," he decided. Perhaps it was a matter they would never agree on. Maybe Suzaku would always be too modest about sharing intimacy in public, and perhaps Lelouch conversely would always want to attract attention to himself. None of it mattered. Tonight was their night - the beginning of their future together - and Suzaku would let nothing spoil that.

The orchestra in the far corner of the room, near where Suzaku had been hiding earlier, began to play again. Lelouch squeezed Suzaku's hand gently, drawing him close. "Dance with me?"

Suzaku opened his mouth, ready to turn down the offer immediately. Lelouch's hopeful expression stopped him before he could utter a sound. Perhaps a dance was the least he could do. They would never see any of these people again, after the night was through; let them gossip as much as they liked.

With an abashed smile, Suzaku admitted, "I'm a terrible dancer," and allowed himself to be led to the dance floor, where couples were already moving in time to the slow waltz.

Lelouch positioned Suzaku's hand on his arm, placing his own free hand at Suzaku's hip and very obviously taking on the male role in the dance. He smirked at Suzaku's pouting face. "I'll lead first," he said. "We can switch if you get the hang of it."

Suzaku, for reasons he did not want to recall, was able to keep up rather well. While no longer completely fresh in his mind he remembered learning these steps, remembered the confident arms that had so patiently guided him through the dance the first time.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!" Suzaku stepped off of Lelouch's foot. "Sorry."

Halfway through the song Lelouch let him take over. Suzaku took the opportunity to slow down their movements. They weren't really waltzing anymore, which was better for Suzaku because it was a speed he could handle and didn't make him think of the dance he'd shared with Zero. It did, however, make them look even more out of place among the other couples. Lelouch didn't seem to mind, so Suzaku tried not to let it bother him either.

"So... lead tenor," Suzaku began conversationally."Did you know?"

Lelouch hummed, resting his head against Suzaku's shoulder. "Lloyd said something about becoming a central piece of his theatre machine... I hadn't the faintest clue this was what he meant."

"I can't believe I'm dancing with a celebrity-hey!" Suzaku winced as the heel of Lelouch's boot ground against his toes. When Lelouch was through expressing his disapproval, Suzaku tried again. "You are. Or you could be, if you wanted. If you stayed-"

"Out of the question."

Lelouch shut him up with a kiss before Suzaku could carry his argument any further. "We have two tickets," he said when he pulled away, satisfied by Suzaku's flushed cheeks. "They'll both be used."

"Alright," Suzaku relented. He truly believed Lelouch could be great, and now had the opportunity to prove that to the world... But there were Opera houses in France. This would not be the end of Lelouch's career; Suzaku would make sure of that. "Alright."

They continued to dance. At some point Lelouch began to hum. His voice, even if soft, seemed to rise above the sound of the orchestra, muting all else from Suzaku's ears. Suzaku blinked, eyes sliding in and out of focus before sharpening as he looked downwards. He felt drowsy all the sudden, but perfectly content.

"What are you singing?" It wasn't what the band was playing. It wasn't anything Suzaku had ever heard before, and yet... he knew that music.

"Something I wrote," Lelouch said, eyes glowing mischievously. They twirled slowly, and as they did Lelouch shifted them subtly so he was leading again - his arm back around Suzaku's waist, possessively, and his other hand buried in Suzaku's hair. "Do you like it?"

Suzaku nodded. "It seems... familiar. Does it have words?"

Gently, Lelouch guided Suzaku's head to rest on his shoulder. Suzaku closed his eyes. "They're only for your ears," Lelouch whispered. "It's not perfect yet."

Suzaku laughed quietly. "I'm sure it is. Everything you do is perfect. You're so-"

"Hush." That was unexpected; Lelouch usually loved flattery. At the questioning glance from Suzaku, Lelouch touched a hand to his cheek. "Do you want to hear it or don't you?"

Suzaku fell silent, Lelouch began humming once again, and everything else in the room faded away, unimportant. Nothing mattered except for the man holding him, and that voice reaching into his very soul.

_"Masquerade, paper faces on parade... Hide your face so the world can never find you..."_

It was beautiful, but what struck Suzaku most as Lelouch continued the song - returning to humming after a few bars, evidence to the song still being a work in progress - was: "It's so sad."

Lelouch fell silent.

"Hide your face so the world can never find you... No one should have to feel that way," Suzaku explained, realizing as he said it that that was exactly what he was doing. Hiding from the Britannians, covering his face in order to belong. But the song wasn't about him - or at least, Suzaku didn't think it was. And that was even more worrying. He brought a hand up to touch the gold trim of Lelouch's mask. "Least of all you."

"Oh, Suzaku..." Lelouch closed his eyes, exhaling. "If you only knew."

"Knew what?"

Lelouch shook his head. "It's not important. I'm flattered you find me so beautiful."

"It's not just me," Suzaku assured him, not understanding where this self-consciousness was coming from. "Everyone knows you're the prettiest one here tonight."

Lelouch didn't appear thrilled by the choice of words - part of the reason Suzaku had chosen 'pretty' specifically - but made no comment on them. "Everyone must be envious of you, then, for having claimed me."

Suzaku laughed. "Is that what I've done?"

"Not as overtly as I've claimed you, perhaps. But there's still time to do that now."

Suzaku blushed darkly, eyes darting about the room. Glances were still being thrown their way every so often, but for the most part the merriment and music seemed to have distracted everyone from the controversial couple. That was just how Suzaku wanted to keep it. "Lelouch, I'm not going to - not in the middle of the ball!"

"Why not?" Lelouch shrugged. He pinned Suzaku with his gaze, eyes smoldering with determination and something Suzaku couldn't identify. "I want you to. Kiss me in front of all these people."

Suzaku opened his mouth to protest, then froze. It was as if the command from his brain had been halted and now overridden but a sudden, overwhelming desire to do exactly what Lelouch had suggested. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to kiss Lelouch, stake his claim with the entire masquerade ball as witness. His body moved of its own accord, and before he knew it ladies were gasping over the sight of him pressing Lelouch against the nearest column, devouring his mouth in a heated kiss. Lelouch's arms caged Suzaku in place as he moaned his appreciation.

"You're mine," Suzaku growled, sliding a leg between Lelouch's and kissing him again. What they were doing wasn't enough, he could feel it; Lelouch wanted more from him and he needed to give it. Lelouch gasped, eyes clamped shut and-

_Wait._

Something clicked inside of Suzaku. The magnitude of what he was doing settled on him and he wrenched himself away. Horror crossed his features as he took in the gaping faces surrounding them. He stood there, breathing heavily, wondering  _what_ and  _how_ and just waiting for some kind of punishment for the indecent display.

No such thing happened. Instead, laughter. It came from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off the walls and sending chills down Suzaku's spine. He knew that voice. He knew it anywhere. It thrilled as much as terrified him.

The chandelier rattled, and there were several screams as the lights of the room extinguished and re-lit themselves. An organ sounded from somewhere, though there was none present among the orchestra. Suzaku looked about wildly for the source of the disturbance, although he knew only one person capable. That voice, that music - it was Zero.

"It's him - the Phantom!"

More laughter filled the room.

"Yes, yes. The  _Phantom_ of the  _Opera_. Such a poetic title. Have you missed me? I've brought a gift. Something to commemorate the new year, the new season... and your new  _star_."

Something fell from above, pages scattering below the chandelier several feet from where Suzaku and Lelouch stood. Suzaku glanced quickly at Lelouch's face, not really knowing what he was looking for but finding Lelouch appeared just as uncertain and - dare he even think it - afraid as everyone else. Suzaku wrapped an arm protectively around his waist.

"Here, at last, the finished score... The Zero Requiem!"

The room broke out in murmurs - people shouting - Bartley trying to be heard over everyone, commanding order and silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He cried as he reached the top of the stairs, in eyesight of all. "I apologize for this disturbance! I assure you that whoever is responsible for this will be properly dealt with and this...  _opera_ will never see the light of day."

"I feel that I should remind my dear manager that his place is in an  _office_ , not the arts. I advise you all to comply as well," Zero said, with the confidence of a man used to getting what he wanted. "My instructions should be clear enough for you. Unless, of course, you wish to lose another star to my anger." A reference to Clovis, no doubt about it; the entire room suppressed a shudder at the memory.

It was a simple method of gaining the upper hand. Knowing the Phantom had no qualms with ending human life, he very quickly had the entire room at his disposal. Bartley held up his hands in surrender. "No, please!"

More echoing laughter. Suzaku felt sick at this confirmation that Zero was indeed a murderer - that he had killed Clovis, and would do the same to Lelouch just to send a message to him: that he was always watching and could easily dispose of the people in Suzaku's life in the blink of an eye. Suzaku was powerless against him.

"Now, shall I announce the cast?" Zero didn't bother waiting for an answer. "Of course, utilizing the season's new leads. Asplund's decisions couldn't have pleased me more if I had chosen them myself. To our dear prima donna, Milly Ashford, naturally the female lead. Hers is the role of the Confidante, the clever witch that awakens the demon."

"And to Shirley Fennette-" The redhead started at the mention of her name, somehow managing to look both frightened and mesmerized by the voice at once. "-the sister of the protagonist. She is both the protagonist's motivation and conscience, and yet, inevitably it is for her sake that he chooses the path of darkness."

"Finally, our new star tenor shall be the Demon Emperor, a man that tries to change the world, only to be tainted and brought to his ruin."

The vision of Lelouch, covered in blood, sword sticking out of his stomach, flashed across Suzaku's eyes, and he abruptly felt violently ill. Especially since he knew what was coming next.

"And the source of that ruin, the Black Knight, the incarnation of the Emperor's darkness, who ultimately destroys him. This role was very difficult to fulfill. Admittedly, it is silent, but arguably the most important in the entire opera, save for the Emperor himself. It took much consideration, and ultimately I came to the conclusion that none among my talented cast could do it justice. I was forced to think beyond the conventional frame. I know many will not be pleased with my decision, but you must trust my judgement. The Black Knight can only be played by-"

Suzaku reached for Lelouch's hand. "We have to get out of here."  _Before he kills you_.

But the booming voice stopped him in his tracks.

"-Suzaku Kururugi!" Zero cried, triggering a cacophony of whispers.

"Suzaku Kururugi?"

"A Number...?"

"Of course the Numbers are behind this!"

But Suzaku couldn't hear the accusing words, couldn't see the hateful scowls, for all he could see was Lelouch, bloody and staring blankly up from the ground. And it was  _Suzaku_ standing over him,  _Suzaku_ holding the sword, Suzaku killing the only person in the world who meant something to him.

Oh God, he was going to be sick.

And there was Zero's voice, cruel and whispering very close to Suzaku's ear for only him to hear: "Did you think I had left you for good, Suzaku? Foolish boy. You're chains are still mine. You belong to  _me_!"

"No, please no," Suzaku whispered, sinking to his knees.

He felt Lelouch wrap his arms around him. "Suzaku?"

Immediately Suzaku pulled Lelouch closer, needing to feel him, to take comfort in the fact that he was there, that he was alive and well and Zero had not broken them apart - not yet.

"I'll never be free," he whispered miserably. "We'll be parted forever. He'll never let me go."

"Suzaku," Lelouch said again, leaning into the embrace, offering the only comfort he could.

In the distance, the clock struck midnight. It was a New Year, and their ship was sailing without them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawli: aww... Our poor boys. Happiness just seems so unlikely for them. :( Trivia! Can anyone guess what movie (not related to Phantom) inspired the scene with the boat tickets? Winner gets... Um... Kudos for knowing one of my favorite movies!
> 
> Fire_Rose17: It shouldn't be too hard. I guessed it right away (I think I did anyway. I don't exactly remember the conversation, but this movie was discussed). Lawli and I happen to have very similar tastes in movies, I think.
> 
> Also, Suzaku and Lelouch's costumes were based heavily off official art done by Clamp, and the masks were photos were I found on the Internet. I'm happy to give out links if anyone is interested to see!


	8. Twisted in Every Way

It was the first time in the history of the Avalon Opera that the Masquerade Ball ended early. The Phantom's threat, giving a voice to an old opera superstition that no one had entirely believed, left the party goers thoroughly spooked and definitely not in the mood to continue the festivities. Not even Milly, with her light hearted jokes diffusing the tension, could entirely restore the former sense of merriment.

Suzaku would have liked to go to bed himself, preferably with Lelouch, although the thought wasn't as pleasant as it could have been, for he could see in his lover's eyes that he was putting the dots together; Suzaku's disappearance, Zero's announcement, and Suzaku's subsequent behavior. Somehow Suzaku didn't think he would get out of Lelouch's questions so easily this time.

He was almost relieved when Bartley called him to his office instead, barely giving him time to change clothes. It seemed insignificant now, that he had snuck into a Britannian party, but the extra uproar it would cause was not something anyone needed right now.

Clad once again in his work shirt and breeches, Suzaku waded through drunken stagehands and understudies, still in the thrall of the second party, which was continuing uninterrupted by supposed supernatural interference.

When he arrived at Bartley's door, he found the manager, as well as Lloyd and the rest of the headliners for Zero's opera. Bartley was pouring over the familiar score, sweating and probably would have been on the verge of tearing his hair out if he had had any. The tension in the room was palpable. Some, like Suzaku, had taken the time to change; others were still in partial costume.

Contrasting sharply to the general atmosphere in the room, Lloyd gave Suzaku a bright smile, bouncing over and shaking his hand with a cheerful: "Congratulations!"

Bartley growled. "Asplund, now is not the time for celebration!"

Lloyd chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "And why not? Something this interesting hasn't happened here in  _forever_! I wonder how the acoustics were altered to make that voice reverberate like that, yet still be able to hear all our conversations on the dance floor."

"I don't care how he did it!" Kallen snapped. She had forgone her dress, and Suzaku noted with some surprise that she appeared to be wearing men's clothing. "What are we going to do about it?"

Bartley shook his head miserably. "We can't give in to this... this  _confidence man_. I don't want to risk my performers, but I can't put on his opera."

"You will," a smooth young voice retorted.

Bartley's eyes widened, and he scrambled to stand up. "Prince Schneizel!"

Area 11, though technically a part of Britannia, was extremely far removed from the homeland. They were sent government officials to keep order, but by Britannian standards it was No Man's Land. Someone as high as the Second Prince would never have any inclination or reason to come here. Suzaku had never seen the man in his life.

At least, not until today.

The man smiled, a knowing look in his eyes that reminded Suzaku distinctly of Lelouch. "You shall perform his work, play his game, but we shall hold the ace, and we'll trap him."

"And what makes you think you can?" Lelouch demanded.

Schneizel glanced in Lelouch's direction for the first time. Something flashed in his eyes, and for a split second, he looked disconcerted, but the expression quickly smoothed over to calm superiority. "The Phantom's antics have made it very clear that he has a taste for theatrics, not to mention he's childish and loves attention. He won't be able to resist showing up opening night, and when he does, my men will be waiting."

"Assuming, of course, we're all willing to perform," Lelouch pointed out.

Silence fell in the room.

Schneizel sighed. "I understand the risks of this plan, and I won't hold any of you here, but this man is a terror. He killed my brother. I cannot let that go unanswered, nor can I allow this "Ghost" to put more people in jeopardy. And besides," Schneizel's lips curled into a surprisingly tender smile, "the Opera house is very dear to my little sister. I refuse to let it be taken over. I do hope that everyone here will cooperate."

He was good, Suzaku thought. Making it seem like putting on a play would make everyone heroes, throwing in the horror of possible consequences another path could bring, and spicing up his appeal with a glimpse of a human side, an older brother (never mind that Clovis had been exiled for years, and Schneizel probably barely knew him). Shirley was swayed instantly, and even Milly and headstrong Kallen were nodding along. Once, Suzaku probably would have bought it too, but he had become very well versed in the ways of liars over the past few months.

But Lelouch knew the prince's game. "What's in it for us?" he demanded, walking to Suzaku's side and lacing their fingers together.

Apparently, he and Lelouch were now an "us".

Schneizel raised an eyebrow, taking in the linked hands, the close body language and understanding instantly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Suzaku and I have no attachment to this theatre. Suzaku has experienced nothing but ill treatment here, and I myself owe this place nothing. Before this ruckus broke out, we fully intended to leave together," Lelouch said, ignoring Bartley's cry of protest and Suzaku's swift kick to his ankle (he did wince though). "If we do this, put ourselves at risk for people we care nothing for, especially Suzaku, for he is the only one this "Phantom" chose specifically, I demand sufficient compensation. Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your lead performers."

Bartley looked outraged, but Schneizel just nodded calmly. "I understand. And what, pray tell, is your idea of sufficient compensation?"

Lelouch seemed momentarily taken aback, probably because he had expected more opposition (besides what he was getting from Suzaku, who was now repeatedly stepping on his foot), but he pressed on. "I will be let out of my contract. When this is over, Suzaku and my travel arrangements will be taken care of, and we will be provided with enough money for us to live comfortably wherever we wish to go."

"You go too far, Lelouch!" Bartley yelled, but Schneizel held up a hand.

"No, I think that is fair. After all, I am asking them to risk their lives, and such an arrangement won't be more than a trifle for me. Kanon," he said, nodding to a young man waiting near the door, "see to it. Now, Mr. Lamperouge, do we have a deal?"

Schneizel's hand was outstretched, waiting. Lelouch reached out to finish the handshake, only to have Suzaku yank him back.

"Will you excuse us for a moment?" Suzaku asked politely, but his eyes were on Lelouch, sparking with pure venom. "I need to discuss this with  _Mr. Lamperouge_."

Schneizel waved his hand dismissively. "Of course."

"Thank you," Suzaku replied, firmly dragging Lelouch out of the room. The minute the door shut, he turned around, pressing Lelouch unceremoniously against the wall.

"Who the hell gave you the right to make decisions for me?" Suzaku demanded.

"I'm sorry I didn't consult you first," Lelouch said, "but I had to strike while the iron was hot, before we got bogged down with obligations. Don't you see, this is it! This is how we'll get to France!"

"With an ordeal by fire? He won't get caught so easily, Lelouch. You don't know him like I do!" Suzaku cried.

There was silence, and for a moment, Lelouch just looked at him, expression unreadable.

"You're right," Lelouch admitted quietly. "I don't."

Suzaku tensed, turning his face towards the ground, but Lelouch caught his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"He's nothing but a man, Suzaku. Not a ghost, not a god, a man. We can run away, but I can see in your eyes that no matter how far we go, no matter how much you care about me, he'll haunt you until you're dead. Unless we kill him first."

Suzaku shivered at the words, for some part of him still ached at the idea of Zero being hurt, and he cupped Lelouch's face, searching those cold eyes for some compassion, for the boy he had fallen in love with. As if on cue, Lelouch's face softened, and he leaned into the touch.

"He kills without a thought," Suzaku whispered. "He might kill  _you_ , Lelouch." And that was what terrified Suzaku most of all, for he knew that he would not be able to protect Lelouch against Zero, not when he couldn't even protect himself. "Why should we risk our lives to win the chance to live?"

"Because it's the only way for you to be free, my love," Lelouch answered.

Suzaku laughed bitterly, burying his face in Lelouch's neck. "Free? Is that even possible? If he finds me, this nightmare will never end."

"We'll end it," Lelouch insisted, pulling Suzaku up to face him and clasping his hands. "You and me. Together, we can do anything."

Suzaku looked up, the old confidence of their childhood incredibly reassuring, and he smiled. "All right. I'll do it for you. I'll become his prey."

There was a moment of silence, unexpected, considering Suzaku had expected Lelouch to be pleased that he was getting his way. But Lelouch had gone still, thoughtful, his fingers tracing patterns on Suzaku's palm.

"Are you in love with him?" Lelouch asked suddenly.

Suzaku flushed, but he answered surely and without hesitation. "No! No, of course not! How could you even ask me something like that?"

Lelouch sighed. "But he is the one, isn't he? The one you think about, the one who keeps you up at night. I thought he was a dream, a fantasy, but I was wrong, and I'm sorry for that. But regardless of whether it is romantic, the fact remains that there is something connecting you to that man, something I'm unable to see. I said I trust you, and I still do, but can you blame me for being jealous?"

Suzaku hesitated. "He and I... our relationship... it's complicated."

Lelouch chuckled bitterly. "One day, Suzaku, you are going to tell me everything." And Suzaku realized that this was not a request, not a question.

It was a command.

* * *

"Stop, stop,  _stop_!"

A hush fell over the ensemble. Several stagehands rushed on to adjust the patchwork of Lelouch's costume, still very much in-progress, while the ballerinas took the opportunity to relax for a moment.

"Suzaku!"

Suzaku turned quickly to Lloyd. "Yes?"

"Why are you wandering all over the stage? The Black Knight is still hiding his presence from the Emperor."

Yes, he'd read the script. Save for a few key scenes, the Black Knight did very little except stand in the corner until the final act, whereupon he betrayed the Emperor and took his life. The entire thing made Suzaku uncomfortable, but the complete lack of direction in the first two acts especially left Suzaku at a loss. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. Just... standing there?"

"Of course not." Lloyd rolled his eyes as if it was obvious. "The Black Knight wouldn't just _stand_ there; he has a purpose. What is it?"

Suzaku didn't know if the question was rhetorical or not - not to mention he hadn't the faintest idea what to say. How was he supposed to know what the Black Knight's purpose for standing in the shadows was? When Lloyd only stared at him expectantly, Suzaku threw his hands up. "I don't know! It doesn't say in the script." Couldn't Zero have given him a  _hint_ , at the very least?

There was a small eruption of laughter from the ensemble including, much to Suzaku's embarrassment, Lelouch. Lelouch wasn't outright laughing with the rest of them, but his lips were upturned at the corners in clear amusement.

"That is your job as an actor," Lloyd pointed out. "You must delve into the psychology of your character, determine who they are and why they do things."

"But I'm not an actor!" Suzaku protested. He didn't even know how to go about discovering who his character was. His character was a name on a piece of paper. Suzaku couldn't breathe life into what he saw as nothing more than words; he'd never had that sort of imagination, and the idea of trying to get into the mindset of a fictional character just seemed silly to him. He appreciated watching the others work, seeing the characters they brought to life so naturally, but the stage was definitely not where he belonged. And he was comfortable with that. He'd never had any aspirations for the spotlight, never desired fame or attention. All he had wanted was to listen in the background in peace. Zero had known that very well, and Suzaku was convinced he had cast him in this role purely out of spite. Ghost or not (and Suzaku of course knew that he was not), Suzaku was going to  _kill_ Zero the next time he saw him.

That is, Suzaku amended with a pang, if Schneizel's men (and  _Lelouch_ for that matter) didn't get to him first.

"Perhaps you are unaware," Bartley interjected scathingly. He still hadn't quite gotten over the fact that a mere Number would be sharing the stage with the Britannian ensemble. "But your opinions and desires have absolutely no value here. You may have secured a role in this opera but don't forget your place,  _Eleven_. For all the trouble you've caused us I should really have you fired."

Blood boiling, Suzaku shot back, "I would rather you did!" Normally he was better at holding his tongue and not letting the degrading words get to him, but he'd had enough. This hadn't been his idea. If he'd had his way, neither he nor Lelouch would have accepted their roles in the Zero Requiem. But if they rejected the casting, what would become of them? They still would have been unable to leave the Avalon; Zero never would have allowed it. It was all too much, and the combination of anxiety and anger was enough to fray his nerves. "I want no part in this."

"Well unfortunately for all our sakes, this madman wants you to be. So I suggest you take your place so we can continue rehearsal, and remember that your part is  _silent_."

_And thank God for that,_ Suzaku thought privately.

"Given that Kururugi is the one man our dear phantom expressly asked for, I would show him a bit more respect." All eyes turned to C.C., who emerged from the wings stage left. "We wouldn't want any more... accidents."

Lloyd's eyes gleamed. "A threat, C.C.? Whose side are you on, exactly?"

C.C. smiled. "I just know how the opera ghost works. No need to anger him when it can easily be avoided."

"Oh?" Lloyd voiced what everyone in the room was clearly thinking. "You sound as if you know him personally."

"I know no more than anyone else." And with C.C., it was impossible to tell if she was being honest or not. "It isn't difficult to guess how a man like him operates. Make him angry, accidents happen. We've seen the pattern before with Clovis. It's nothing new."

"I suppose." Lloyd actually sounded disappointed, as if he'd been waiting for C.C. to admit she was the ghost all along or some equally delicious secret that might clue them into just who the phantom was.

"Don't be ridiculous," Bartley scoffed. "What happened with Clovis has nothing to do with this. I highly doubt this phantom is capable of-"

He was interrupted, but not by words. Not even by anyone gathered at the rehearsal - that they could see, at any rate. There were several outcries as the source of the noise became apparent: the piano, which had been wheeled onto the stage at the start of rehearsal, appeared to be playing on its own. Suzaku recognized the sharp, discordant notes from his time spent in the Phantom's home under the theatre, and the trick was the same as it had been when Zero gave him dance lessons. Music sounding from thin air, invisible hands on the keys. He shuddered.

Bartley's voice cracked as he spoke again. "E-everyone, back to your places!"

No one, not even Suzaku, dared object.

* * *

Rehearsal only went further downhill from there, if that was possible. Rather than wandering around the stage, Suzaku had stopped moving altogether, standing stiffly like (as Lloyd put it): "a particularly useless statue." And unfortunately, Suzaku was in practically every scene, so they couldn't just skip to the parts that didn't involve him. The frustration mounted, and the only thing that kept Suzaku from storming out was that it would have been reminiscent of the overly dramatic tantrums Clovis had always thrown.

That didn't prevent Suzaku from jumping off the stage the instant there was a break, though.

"Suzaku!" Lelouch called. "Suzaku, wait!"

But Suzaku, still irritated at Lelouch for laughing at him, didn't particularly feel like waiting. Lelouch hadn't been so blatant about it, but the amusement in his expression was impossible to miss, effectively adding to Suzaku's humiliation. Really, Suzaku would love to see any of them thrust into his position - into the limelight, where he had never been before and quite frankly had no desire to remain, expected to pick up cues and remember blocking and 'discover the psychology of his character' while the seasoned pros tittered behind his back and the threat of Zero loomed over his head.

_I need some air,_ Suzaku decided, and didn't look back as he left the auditorium.

It was a beautiful day outside, if cold, the biting air oddly refreshing against Suzaku's skin. The pale, frigid sunlight illuminated passing carriages.

Without a coat he wouldn't be able to stay out too long, but he embraced the cold if only because it helped clear his head. He walked slowly, dragging his feet through the light snow. The quiet was a relaxing change from the theatre, with its noise and surplus of people.

"Is someone there?" a young, female voice said.

Suzaku should have realized that even out here he was never alone.

The girl was sitting near the front steps, not quite in the street, but the as close as she could get without endangering herself. And she was a pretty little thing, Suzaku noted. Probably a little younger than himself, with wavy brown hair and clothes hinting of nobility.

Suzaku sighed, walking towards the girl. "Yes. I'm sorry if I startled you."

She smiled brightly. "Oh, I know that voice! You're Suzaku Kururugi, right?"

Suzaku nodded, slightly taken aback by the odd statement. His voice? "That's me."

Up close, Suzaku noticed for the first time that the girl's eyes were closed.

She giggled. "You're playing the Black Knight." It was not a question, but a statement.

"...Yes," Suzaku admitted somewhat reluctantly. He hadn't realized anyone had been overlooking rehearsals, but if she knew his character and recognized him by the sound of his voice there could really be no other explanation. He wondered who she was. From her state of dress he could only assume she wasn't a relative of anyone who worked at the Avalon.

"Oh, don't feel so bad! My brother says you are doing very well for your first time on stage!"

Her brother? Suzaku frowned, eyes sweeping over the girl once more. The fine dress, the jewels that glittered at her throat, the elevated form of speech... She was obviously of high status. The only person in the Avalon with any sort of status Suzaku could think of was Lloyd, who was apparently an Earl though he had nothing to show for it. This girl didn't look anything like the eccentric director, thankfully, so that left...

Suzaku froze, his eyes widening. She couldn't be...

He cleared his throat. "You're not... Princess Nunnally?"

The girl smiled, ducking her head "I suppose I should have introduced myself first." She held out a hand and, bewildered, Suzaku took it in his own.

Nunnally, the crippled princess of Britannia. Even citizens as far out as Area 11 knew the tragic story. Unable to see or walk, she normally wouldn't have been allowed to exist under Britannia's Social Darwinism, but she was far too beloved by the people for anyone to dare touch her.

Nunnally's fingers ghosted over Suzaku's palm, fingering calluses and dipping into the cracks between his fingers. Suzaku shivered at the strange, oddly invasive touch, as if the blind princess was looking into his soul.

"Princess..."

"Nunnally," she said, dropping Suzaku's hand. "You may call me Nunnally."

"Um." Suzaku swallowed, at a loss for what to do. What did one talk about with a princess of the Empire? Was there a special protocol, certain topics to stay away from? Should he even stay outside? Someone like Bartley would blow a gasket if they found out. "If I may ask, what is a princess doing so far from the homeland?"

"I have a special connection with Area 11," Nunnally admitted softly. "This is where my mother died."

"Wha-?" Suzaku stuttered. Crap. This was probably one of those topics to avoid. "I never heard about that!"

Nunnally shrugged. "It is not common knowledge. The royal family tries to keep such events private to avoid upsetting the public." Suzaku had to wonder, then, why she was talking about it so openly to him, of all people. "The truth is that my mother had a lot of enemies, many within the royal family itself. She'd thought Area 11 might be safe for her, but I suppose there is no safe place when someone is determined to find you."

The words struck a painful chord in Suzaku, though he didn't have long to dwell on them.

"I think the newspapers wrote about a fire at the Aries Villa, but it happened here. I managed to survive, although obviously not unscathed, but my brother..." the princess faltered. "My brother..."

Suzaku clasped Nunnally's hands in his again, a liberty he ordinarily would have never taken, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "It's alright. You don't have to talk about it."

Nunnally let out a small, sad laugh. "Yes, well, the body was never found. I know it's impossible after all this time, but somehow I always hoped I would find him here, in Area 11. Especially when I heard of a singer here of the same name."

Only one singer here that could possibly fit that description... "You mean Lelouch?"

"Yes. I know it's probably nothing more than a coincidence. Naming children after the Royal family  _is_ rather common, but I couldn't resist coming here, if only to hear him sing." Nunnally smiled fondly. "Lelouch always did love to sing."

It couldn't be possible, Suzaku told himself firmly. There was absolutely no way the boy he had played with on the streets of Tokyo was a prince of Britannia... but wouldn't that make sense? Lelouch's secretiveness, the holes in his past, his very manner? Suzaku had always thought that he acted like a prince.

The offer came out before Suzaku had time to think it through. "Would you like to meet him, princess?"

Nunnally clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, could I?"

Suzaku chuckled, ducking his head into a bow before remembering that she couldn't see it. "Of course. Lelouch is a very good friend of mine. I'm sure he would be delighted."

Actually, probably not, considering how Lelouch felt about the government, but it served him right for forcing Suzaku into this opera without asking. Besides, once he met sweet little Nunnally, he was sure Lelouch would deny her nothing.

"Black Knight, get your stiff, statue-like ass in here!" Lloyd called brightly (it always astonished Suzaku that he could say such things without malice). "Break's over! We're about to start the next scene!"

Suzaku sighed reluctantly. "I guess that's my cue."

Nunnally giggled. "You're really having trouble, aren't you?"

"I'm not an actor," Suzaku lamented. "I'm a stagehand, nothing more. How am I supposed to play this great black agent of evil?"

Nunnally cocked her head. "Evil? Is that what you think the Black Knight represents?"

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"Well, I can't see, so I might not be the best person to judge a silent role like yours, but from what I've heard from the script and the sense I got from attending the rehearsal, I feel he's more of a reflection of the Emperor. His dark hopes and great desires. He's a tragic figure. Lonely... sad. But he was born out of love, and he loves the Emperor accordingly. He can't help that he is what he is; he can only watch as the darkness grows, to the point where the only way to save the one he cares so much for is to kill him," Nunnally smiled. "Dark isn't always bad. It is simply dark, and there is nothing evil about that."

There was a moment of silence as Suzaku contemplated her words, the entirely new outlook on a character which before had seemed entirely one-dimensional. Layers, where there had been nothing but a flat surface. He was not the hero, but perhaps there was more to the Black Knight than simply the oppressive force he seemed to be on paper.

Nunnally flushed. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't go on about things I know nothing about!"

"No," Suzaku said slowly.  _A tragic figure... lonely, sad... Dark, but born out of love._ "No... that actually might help me. Thank you."

"I'm glad I could offer you some advice. Now, will you push me back into the theatre? I'm afraid the stairs are too hard on the wheelchair Mr. Asplund made for me to manage on my own."

"Of course," Suzaku replied. And as he half pushed, half carried, the princess up the Avalon steps, Suzaku felt that maybe he  _could_ play this part. After all, he knew what it was like to watch someone he cared for descend into darkness.

* * *

Early the next morning found Suzaku holed up in the Avalon's library. Finding books not related to the Arts was a bit of a challenge, but the Avalon was a Britannian establishment, and every Britannian establishment, as a matter of national pride, contained at least one text on the history of the Empire.

The desire not to draw unwanted attention made Suzaku take only a lantern with him, and with that he poured over the text, trying to translate the formal Britannian writing and having difficulty making sense of it. What written Britannian he did understand he'd taught himself - he'd had to in order to get by, find work - but even after all this time reading left to right confused him.

"You know," a smooth voice interrupted, "these books were all written by scholars hand-picked by my father. They contain very little actual facts."

Suzaku jumped, gaze darting upward from the pages guiltily and meeting the ice blue eyes of the Second Prince of Britannia. Suzaku's face flushed and he jumped to his feet, bowing hastily at the waist. "P-Prince Schneizel—"

"Please." Schneizel held up a hand to stop him. "None of that. Sit."

Suzaku did as told. Schneizel took the chair opposite his and turned the book towards himself, reading the chapter title effortlessly. "Empress Marianne the Flash... "His lips quirked into a smirk. "Were you a fan?"

Swallowing, Suzaku shook his head. "Please-" he licked his lips, adding, "sir," as an afterthought. Schneizel seemed to want to forego formalities, but Suzaku did not wish to be accused of disrespect. The Prince had promised to help him and Lelouch leave once this ordeal was finished; Suzaku couldn't jeopardize that. "I think you know the reason I'm interested."

This earned him a small laugh. Schneizel turned the page and Suzaku gazed down at the photograph of a beautiful woman with flowing ebony hair and a haughty expression. "Our young tenor does bear quite a resemblance to her, doesn't he?"

"Nunn- That is, the Princess... She thinks he might be her brother. But he's supposed to be  _dead._ " That was what the book had said; Suzaku had translated that much:  _Lelouch vi Britannia: deceased_. And according to the books, that had been over ten years ago. Even if he hadn't been killed, surely someone would have found him and presented him to the public. No one would pass up the glory of finding the lost prince.

"And what do you think?" Schneizel asked.

"I don't know." That was the honest truth. It was unfathomable to him - Lelouch, a  _prince._ Suzaku had always thought Lelouch very regal, his attitude could certainly rival the inbred haughtiness of royalty, and Suzaku could not ignore the resemblance to Marianne. Even Lelouch's violet eyes were a trait he shared with the most of the royal family (something Suzaku had never realized until his conversation with Nunnally). "I don't know if I believe in such coincidences. I know Lelouch doesn't."

"That sounds like Marianne's boy."

"Did you know him?" The Emperor had so many wives; Suzaku had no idea what the childhoods of royalty were like, if the siblings had much opportunity to play with each other growing up.

"Oh yes." Schneizel closed the book and pushed it aside. "Out of all the siblings old enough to remember him, I probably spent the most time with him. I was there when he was born, when he took his first steps - sang his first aria. He was a very intelligent child. A very fast learner."

"So you would know if it was the same Lelouch?" Suzaku said, excitement making him jump to his feet.

"I believe Nunnally is the only one who can tell us that," Schneizel admitted. "Let him sing for her."

"You think that's all it will take?" Suzaku was doubtful, but Schneizel looked quite confident.

"Yes, Suzaku," Schneizel said, smiling. "I do."

* * *

_He dreamed of times gone by, when the world was an innocent carefree song that brought new adventures every day. In his mind he saw grand foyers and ornate hallways, women in colorful dresses of plush velvet and himself in his stockings and ruffled shirt-sleeves, boots blackened and pristine. The tinkling of laughter, the whisper of servants slipping in and out of rooms unnoticed. All of it familiar and, at the same time, completely foreign. These were not his memories. They couldn't be. There was no home other than the Opera house; perhaps an alleyway to sleep in but never anything so lovely and rich as this thing conjured up by his subconscious._

_Wishful thinking, that was all this was. Even if he was asleep Lelouch could recognize that. A dream of what his life might have been like, if he'd been born in more fortunate circumstances. But if that were the case, he never would have met Suzaku, so that wasn't really anything to wish for at all._

_"Isn't it?"_

_Lelouch jumped, realizing for the first time that he was not alone in this palace of dreams. He whirled around, attempting to locate the source of the voice. The corner of the room was shrouded in an impenetrable darkness._

_"You mean to tell me you've never been curious? All those years you can't remember... There is so much you do not know about yourself."_

_"And you know?" Lelouch said, skeptical._

_"I know a great many things, Lelouch Lamperouge. About who you are, who you could be."_

_Lelouch blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Who he could be? Who could he ever be, other than himself? Memories - or lack thereof - had no influence over the person he was today. Whether he had them or not would not affect his future, the path he had chosen to take with Suzaku._

_"Always thinking about that boy."_

_The voice sounded amused, but there was an underlying anger to the words that did not escape Lelouch's notice. "Is there a reason I should not?" he countered, taking a step toward the shadows._

_"He knows his love is not enough," the voice said. "He knows it's not what you truly need."_

_Yes, Lelouch knew that well enough. Self-deprecating to a fault, that was his Suzaku. But he had always been the one thing Lelouch wanted. "He's always been enough. And what should either of you know about what I need?"_

_The voice persisted, as if Lelouch's words hadn't even registered. "I think we can all agree you're too good for him. You are, and always have been, so much more._ Look  _at yourself."_

_And Lelouch did, gazed down at the fine clothes which had changed, matured to a handsome coat and cravat not unlike he'd seen Prince Schneizel dressed in the other day. The clothes did not feel uncomfortable, as something borrowed might; they were his, they belonged to him. Just as this room belonged to him; it was familiar now. Every detail came flooding back to his mind: the soft cream carpet, the four-poster bed at the center._

_Lelouch approached the bed, running a hand over the silk comforter. He could see himself nestled within the sheets, pressed against another little body - but he couldn't make out the other face. Only the warmth, the comfort of having that person with him._

_He blinked, and the room was cast into darkness, the shadows from the corner bleeding over the walls. Lelouch was sprawled across the bed, long limbs tangled within the sheets - restricted, caged. He thrashed, tossing his head back, his breath escaping him in short pants. Something was happening, about to happen, about to change everything and there was nothing he could do. He was trapped, and he didn't even know what there was to fear only that he should fear it. It could destroy him, destroy everything, and it would; it would if it could get its hands on him -_

_Something touched him. Just the faintest caress against his chin, travelling downwards over his neck and down his throat, making the little hairs stand on end. A whisper of a touch, sweeping over his collarbone and for a moment he thought it might be Suzaku, but no -_

_He moaned, and in the back of his mind he thought that should embarrass him; but before the blood could rush to his face the touch returned, grazing his chest and making his breath stutter. It shouldn't feel good, his mind screamed at him. It shouldn't, and why shouldn't it? If he desired something, he should take it, bask in it, in what had always been denied to him - this warmth, this intimacy, this -_

_Something flashed across his mind. Maybe it was another memory or maybe just another trick, but he was truly caged this time, behind metal bars and his heart leapt in his throat as he pounded and pulled and tried to get free as a crowd jeered and laughed and cried 'sing!'_

_A little rougher, more forceful and, no, it wasn't even a touch at all, not really, not in the physical sense. It was_ music _. Everywhere, all around him; deep, sensual musical that seeped into his body and made every nerve tingle. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced, a pleasure he'd never fathomed. Music had always been something he'd understood, but never before had he felt it as he did now: shaking his very core. His back arched off the mattress, and suddenly the darkness was clearing from his mind. He could vaguely make out a shape through the shadows, a lean form, fingers thundering against the keys, playing him like a master. Lelouch strained against the sheets that bound him, wanting to move, to see him clearly, touch him -_

_And then it stopped._

_Lelouch breathed in sharply, jerking as if he'd been doused with frigid water. He was free of his restraints, standing upright beside the bed as he had been before. The room came into focus, the man -_

_"Oh. Of course." Hadn't he been expecting exactly this? "I should have known it all along."_

_"You've been waiting for me?" The voice sounded pleasantly surprised._

_"You did write often," Lelouch pointed out. "I'm actually surprised you didn't show yourself sooner._ O.G _., I believe it is?" The opera ghost laughed. Lelouch narrowed his eyes. "So what do you want? What is the purpose of... this?" He gestured at the ornate room._

_"This is the truth," the ghost answered simply. "Something that has been denied to you a very long time."_

_"And if I don't care to learn it?"_

_"I would say you are a fool. And you don't strike me as foolish." Lelouch frowned, unsure of whether to feel insulted or not. "No one can be truly happy without a recollection of their past," the ghost continued. "They can lie and say they are, but at heart they know it to be false. It is a hole that can never be filled. Without the past, there is no future."_

_A valid statement. But Lelouch had never been dependent on fickle things like memories to hoist himself out of the gutters. He owed Suzaku for showing him friendship and kindness, C.C. for introducing him to the Opera, and everything else he had accomplished himself._

_But wouldn't it be nice to know? To not have so many questions? They did plague him, from time to time; mainly when asleep and vulnerable to such weaknesses as thoughts of abandonment and_ 'did I really have no one?'

_"So then what is it? Tell me who I am, if you know so much."_

_The opera ghost gave a low chuckle. "Everything has a price. This is no exception."_

_Except in Lelouch's opinion, the information was rightfully his. The ghost had no right to ask anything of him in return. "What do you want?" What could Lelouch even offer him?_

_"You're correct to assume you have very little to offer me. In truth it is not something that I_ want, _but something you must do."_

_Lelouch waited, watching the shadows creep over the carpet, inching closer to where he stood._

_"You must let go of this life." Lelouch stiffened as the shadows drew closer, straining his eyes to make out a face in the darkness and seeing nothing. "Put it out of mind. Put_ him _out of mind."_

_An attempt to retreat made Lelouch realize he was being held very firmly in place - whether by a physical force or his own anxiety, he did not know._

_"Leave... Suzaku?" No, he couldn't. There was no way. Suzaku was everything. If the future did not hold Suzaku, Lelouch wanted no part in it. The life they had planned to start together was more than Lelouch needed to be happy._

_"Don't be a fool!" The voice seemed to come from everywhere, resonating within Lelouch himself even. "It is time to leave him in the dust! Forget these childish dreams and embrace your destiny. You must set the music inside of you free."_

_The music…?_

_"What do you mean?"_

_The voice softened. "You felt it before, yes? That music. You wonder, what does it have to do with the forgotten past, and the answer is:_ everything _. The music is the key. It is as much a part of you as your beating heart, and that is what you have forgotten."_

_Lelouch shook his head. This was insane. Why couldn't he leave? Why couldn't he awaken from this absurd dream? Lord knew he was trying, desperately fighting to stir his own consciousness. He wanted nothing more than to open his eyes and see Suzaku's head on the pillow beside his own, feel his warm arms and know that, yes, that was really all he needed._

_But the ghost wouldn't stop talking, and Lelouch couldn't stop listening - thinking, considering..._

_"That is a joy nothing else can bring you, not even this thing you think is love."_

_A hand emerged from the darkness, covered in a white silk glove and palm facing upward. A clear invitation. Lelouch stared at it, unable to ignore the desire to take it in his own. There was a roaring in his ears, blood singing in his veins as music swelled and unwound around him. He yearned to join it. The opera ghost offered him a way to do that, somehow. He was the only way to do that, to ensure this feeling never disappeared. The oneness with music Lelouch never realized he craved so desperately; the phantom could give that to him. All he had to do was take that hand, open his mouth... and..._

_"Yes," the ghost said. "You feel it now, don't you." Lelouch closed his eyes. He could move again. His legs carried him forward without hesitation. "Two strands of melody, yearning to entwine. Fulfill us, Lelouch. Complete us. Make us_ one _.… It was always meant to be that way."_

_A black mask appeared before him as Lelouch opened his eyes. He brought a hand up to the smooth material. The entire room was still, the music even pausing in anticipation of his response. Conflict twisted Lelouch's heart. What answer could he possibly give? Was he to turn his back on love - on the person who had cared and been there for him - in order to learn the truth about himself? Suzaku was his inspiration, the thought that kept him going throughout the years; Lelouch owed him so much. How could he just discard him, after everything they'd been through?_

_"I can't," he said, voice barely a whisper. "I won't do it. The past, the future..." Lelouch clenched his fists. "None of it matters if I don't have Suzaku to share it with."_

_"A childish notion," the ghost snarled._

_"Then I am a child. And you are a coward," Lelouch accused. "You don't have the courage to meet me face to face, man to man, and so you send me letters and try to intimidate me when I'm asleep. None of this makes me inclined to take your threats seriously."_

_"Oh," the ghost smiled, and it was eerie how Lelouch could only see the mouth. "I would not underestimate the power of dreams. Things that happen here can be very real." He brought his gloved hand down to the keys of the organ he stood before, and Lelouch felt the notes reverberate through him. Two sets of lips parted; Lelouch's in surprise and the ghost's with smug satisfaction. "Not afraid of me, you say. And yet..." He struck another chord and Lelouch jumped. "Your body says you are quite afraid of what I might do to you. Here, in this realm where I am master. I admit that outside of this dream there is very little I can do to you, but_ here _..."_

_The music became louder. Lelouch winced and tried to cover his ears, but there was no way to block it out; it was inside of him. The music curled around him, scalding him like fire. It did not stop even as the phantom left the organ and grasped Lelouch's chin, turning his gaze to the endless expanse of black material that was the phantom's face._

_"There is no escape from me, Lelouch."_

_The fire burned hotter. Lelouch actually whimpered, trying desperately to wiggle free. The ghost's fingers dug into his jaw as a solemn oath was made._

_"I will_ destroy  _you."_

* * *

Lelouch woke with the force of a drowning man, gasping heavily for air, body jerking upward and almost off the bed, and for a moment Suzaku, terrified and helpless, feared that Lelouch was having the same sort of unexplained fit he had had in the tree so many months ago.

"Lelouch?"

At the sound of his lover's voice, Lelouch's gaze focused somewhat, but his eyes were still hazy, still in the grips of some horror that went beyond reality, and Suzaku soon found his arms filled with a quivering mass of flesh.

"Lelouch!" Suzaku called again, worry furrowing his brow. Lelouch had always been so strong. He had never seen him like this before, frightened and gripping Suzaku desperately like he was the only thing that was keeping him tethered to the world. "What's wrong?"

But Lelouch shook his head, burying his face in Suzaku's chest.

"Suzaku," he whispered. "Suzaku. I only want you. I don't need a past or a future. Just you. Only you. Let me stay with you. Please.  _Please_!"

"It's okay," Suzaku murmured, wrapping his arms around Lelouch and pulling him onto his lap. "I'm right here. I'll never leave you, Lelouch. Didn't I promise that?"

Lelouch, relaxing somewhat at the touch and reassuring words, nodded slowly, and he shifted so that his head was now resting against Suzaku's shoulder.

Suzaku rubbed Lelouch's back gently, his fingers making light patterns on Lelouch's nightshirt. "What happened?" he asked quietly. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Lelouch laughed, a bitter sound that ended in something close to a sob. "I don't even know. It's hazy now, getting harder to remember by the second, but it was... it was dark, so dark, and you weren't there. I don't want to live in a world where you aren't there!"

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I'll always be here, wherever you are. Forever," Suzaku promised.

Lelouch sighed, and Suzaku was relieved to see that he appeared to be coming back to himself.

"Not if your phantom has his way."

The words, unexpected and cutting, made Suzaku flinch. "No. He's not my - he's not-"

Lelouch pulled away, looking into Suzaku's face. His expression had undergone a drastic change. The terror and insecurity still lurked in his eyes, but it was laced with calculation and pure determination. "Suzaku, I need you to tell me everything you know about him. The nature of your relationship with him, his character,  _everything_. Right now."

"Lelouch, where is this coming from?" Suzaku asked, taken aback. He didn't deny that Lelouch had a right to know, and honestly Suzaku had expected to be interrogated sooner or later, but he hadn't thought it would be so sudden. Then again, this  _was_ the boy who had locked them both in a closet in order to determine how Suzaku felt about him. He should have known Lelouch would not seek answers on Suzaku's schedule.

"Tell me, Suzaku," Lelouch begged, and Suzaku realized that the desperation was still there, Lelouch had merely given it another focus. "Please. I need to know."

He needed to know, for in this night, the Phantom had declared war. A war with the highest stakes imaginable, a war in which he could lose everything, his entire world. Lelouch could see that he was working at a disadvantage. He had to know his enemy.

Suzaku sighed, taking Lelouch's hands and giving them a squeeze. "All right, Lelouch."

He told Lelouch everything. His first encounter with the mysterious O.G., their long conversations in Box Five, his trips to Zero's lair. After some reluctance, he even told Lelouch about their kiss.

"But that was before we were together, I swear!" Suzaku said. "I just... it was in the heat of the moment, and I thought about you the entire time-"

Lelouch placed a finger on Suzaku's lips. "Hush. It's okay."

Suzaku shook his head. "It's not! Because it wasn't just a kiss. I'm... I'm attracted to him, Lelouch." And perhaps it was Suzaku who was the most surprised by this, because it was the first time he had admitted those feelings to anyone, including himself. "I love you, I really do, but Zero... When he's with me, when he speaks... he makes me feel... I don't know. I can't really explain it-"

"It's  _okay_ ," Lelouch repeated firmly. "I know how you feel about me. You've proven it to me over and over again. Attraction is not love, Suzaku, and at the end of the day, I know that I will always be the one your heart follows. Don't hate yourself."

"But don't you see? This is all my fault! I thought he was my friend... and now we're forced to play his game, and Clovis... He's not going to stop, Lelouch. Not until he gets what he wants."

"He wants you," Lelouch pointed out.

Suzaku flushed. "He wants a companion, someone to stay with him in his lair-"

"He wants  _you,_  Suzaku," Lelouch repeated firmly. "And I think Clovis made it clear that he'll do anything to have you." His eyes narrowed. "But I don't plan on giving you up. Never again. Yes, this is his game, but he's not the only one who knows how to play. I'll win, Suzaku, and I will  _destroy_ him."

There was something possessive and menacing in Lelouch's voice, and it made Suzaku tense, pulling away from Lelouch and wrapping himself in his own arms.

"I don't want him dead," Suzaku admitted quietly. "I don't want anyone else to be hurt because of me."

He still had nightmares about Clovis, his peaceful smile as he hung from the rafters, rope coiled around his neck. Clovis's face would then become his father's, knife glistening as Suzaku stood over him. Had his father smiled like that in death? Suzaku couldn't remember. He only remembered the blood and the  _eyes_...

"You still care about him, don't you?"

Lelouch smiled, and it was so sad that Suzaku thought that Lelouch might have been better without him, better without someone who could only hurt the people who mattered to him. The smart thing to do was pull out, remove himself from the picture before he damaged it beyond repair. He was dangerous, followed by death wherever he went; Lelouch deserved better. But then Lelouch was kissing him, a deep kiss that held all the love and passion that was capable in two human beings, and in that moment Suzaku really couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

"Clovis is not your fault," Lelouch whispered, " _None_ of this is your fault. I won't lie, Suzaku, when I tell you I hate this man. I hate him for making you feel guilty and afraid, hate him for expecting us to dance on his strings. Most of all I hate him because I am a selfish, jealous person and I can't stand the thought of you being in someone else's arms, even for a moment. But your friend will not die by my hand. I cannot speak for Schneizel's men, but I swear not to seek any revenge. Not if you don't wish it. Because as much as I hate him, I love you more."

"Thank you," Suzaku said, but he couldn't help but feel he sat next to a stranger. He didn't know this dark, cold person who so callously spoke of hate and love in the same breath, and not for the first time the question reverberated in his mind, the question that never seemed to be answered, ' _Who is Lelouch Lamperouge_?'

Suddenly, Lelouch laughed, breaking the tension. "Honestly, Suzaku, how do you expect me to kill anyone? I can't even go up the stairs to your room without getting winded."

The uncharacteristic self-deprecation was obviously for Suzaku's benefit, a distraction from the real issue, and Suzaku was grateful for it. He offered a small smile, playing along. "You never were very good in a fight. If you insist on constantly insulting people who are bigger than you, Lelouch, you should at least learn how to throw a proper punch."

"That's what I have you for!" Lelouch pointed out. "You, my loyal and beloved knight."

Suzaku rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." And then he sighed, lightly running a hand through his hair. "I don't know about you, but I'm going back to sleep. We both have to get up early tomorrow."

Lelouch's smile faltered. "Sleep?" And there it was again. The fear, for the dream was nothing more than a blur now, but Lelouch retained enough to know that something lurked in the darkness, hiding in his thoughts and dreams, waiting...

"I'm here," Suzaku said again, brushing his fingers through Lelouch's bangs, and it was amazing how two simple words spread such an incredible feeling of calm throughout Lelouch's body.  _I'm here_.

"Hold me?" Lelouch asked, hating how needy he sounded, especially since he had once made a point to never need anyone.

"Always," Suzaku promised, pulling Lelouch against him and lying down. "Forever."

Lulled by the comfort of Suzaku's arms and the rhythm of his breathing, Lelouch dreamed again; this time of errant coins, of street songs and warm summer days. And the darkness loomed, still there inside his mind, but dormant, unable to penetrate the shield of security and love.

_You may have won the battle, but I'll be the one to win the war._

* * *

Zero had been too ambitious his first time, had pushed too hard in Lelouch's dream world. Essentially, he had underestimated Lelouch Lamperouge, his mind far stronger than Zero had anticipated. It would take some time for those shields to weaken, for Zero to slip through the cracks in his dreams, especially with Lelouch on his guard now. With the element of surprise lost, Lelouch wouldn't be so inclined to fall for a few notes of music and honeyed words.

Still, Zero was confident that if he was smart and careful, ever so careful, he could slip his chains around Lelouch's consciousness little by little, pulling tighter until the boy was trapped in the prison of his own mind, never again able to see the light of reality. Never even able to see the cage he was in for it would be of his own making.

_If it is to be war between us, boy, then I'll show you the fires of hell._


	9. Wandering Child

Lelouch took a deep breath as he crossed the stage, making his way to the piano before which C.C. sat, her hand outstretched expectantly. He passed the sheet music over to her, watching as her eyes flicked over the score before her lips quirked in a teasing smile.

"Trying to suck up, are we?"

Lelouch's gaze flickered to the small audience gathered in the front row. At the very center sat Princess Nunnally, and beside her the Second Prince Schneizel, who had called for the private concert, and his advisor Kanon. None of them seemed to have overheard C.C. "Well," Lelouch replied in an equally hushed tone, "they _are_ royals."

C.C. laughed. Lelouch returned to center stage and gave a proper bow. "It's an honor to perform for you, your highness," he said, focusing on Nunnally's closed eyes. He felt an odd pang when he looked at her so he quickly looked elsewhere - to C.C., giving her a decisive nod. She began to play the opening bars of  _'Hail Britannia'._ Lelouch himself was impartial to the song, the nationalistic themes of which had made it tremendously popular over the years, but he figured the prince and princess would prefer it to a more traditional ballad. The upperclass was predictable that way, and the least Lelouch could do was try to please them since Prince Schneizel was his and Suzaku's ticket out of here once this Phantom business was over and done with.

Near the back of the house Lelouch could just make out Suzaku's profile. He allowed a smile to cross his lips. Singing before an audience had never made him nervous, but for some reason, standing before the princess, he had butterflies in his stomach. Knowing Suzaku was there watching helped put Lelouch's mind at ease.

He opened his mouth to sing as his introduction reached its end, but a soft voice interrupted him. It was Princess Nunnally. She had leaned forward in her chair, her face turned directly towards him, and began to recite lines of a poem in a singsong voice.

_"Little Lottie let her mind wander. Little Lottie thought: "Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes?"_

Lelouch stood speechless, mouth agape as he wondered what to do. Was he supposed to answer her? Was this a riddle he was supposed to figure out the answer to? He didn't even know what she was saying, if she was referencing a book or song. The words were familiar somehow, though he couldn't place where or if he'd ever heard them before. To make matters worse all eyes in the room were trained on him - waiting for something. What did they want?

Nunnally tried again, her voice raising, laced with desperation.  _"Or of riddles or frocks?"_

Something flashed in Lelouch's mind. It was blurred but the vision was there: two children sitting close together at the feet of a beautiful woman, squealing in delight as she told them dark stories of the North. Someone playing the violin. Someone singing, and then...

Schneizel stood up, ice-blue eyes shining with obvious disappointment. "That's enough." He laid a hand on Nunnally's shoulder. Lelouch felt as if he'd just failed an important test. "I'm sorry."

"No," Lelouch spoke up, words suddenly coming to him where before they had failed to, surfacing from some the dusty ruins of his memory. His voice rose to an airy falsetto as he stepped closer, to the foot of the apron. " _What I like best, Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head._ "

He knew the words. How did he know them? He didn't even know this was a song! And even as he reflected on what he'd just sang they did not make sense to him. They faded back into the dark corners of his mind, unreachable once more even as the faces sharpened, features becoming clear and recognizable. The little girl was clearly changed, older and matured but it was the same face staring back at him from the first row, tears in her eyes.

Nunnally.

" _The Angel of Music sings songs in my head_ ," the princess joined in - and hadn't she always at this part? Her head bowed, shoulders beginning to shake. "Oh, Lelouch!"

What had he done? Whatever the point of this was, whatever he'd just confirmed or denied, Lelouch had a feeling it had the power to tilt his entire world off its axis, to change his life, his identity, the very core of everything he had ever held true.

And he didn't want that. Already his life had seen too much change. Stability was what he craved, and with Suzaku. He didn't want to think of royalty or ghosts or Little Lottie or—

_"Run, Lelouch - take Nunnally and run!"_

_—gunshots and thick clouds of smoke choking the air from his lungs. The skirt he had clutched in his boyhood laced with bullet holes and stained blood red._

_"Forget this, Lelouch! Forget everything!"_

_"Mother!"_

"Lelouch!" A thousand voices cried out at once, but it was only Suzaku whom Lelouch saw rushing toward the stage. Lelouch reached out for him desperately a a sharp pain behind his eyes tinted his vision red.

_Forget everything._

He stumbled. The world faded away, and he fell.

* * *

_Lelouch is four years old when he first glimpses Japan. It doesn't leave much of an impression aside from an overwhelming relief that the age of sea life is over, of jumping from port to port, hitching rides in cargo areas, battling seasickness and boredom. It's hard to remember a time when they weren't moving from ship to ship, and the fragments of his old life don't feel quite real anymore._

_This land is home now, at least, that is what his mother assures him. It seems to Lelouch like an strange little country, with odd, many roofed buildings towering into the sky, and people walking around in skirt-like clothing (even the_ men _). But the hustle in the streets is not unlike Britannia, and as Nunnally's small hand finds his, her eyes alight with wonder, Lelouch decides that they would make it home._

_The locals stare at them as they walk through the market, some pointing and making comments in a strange tongue, and Lelouch realizes that these pale skinned strangers must look equally alien to them. The discovery makes him feel even more out of place, and he grips his mother's hand tighter._

_And then another voice cuts through the crowd, clear, feminine, and Lelouch notes with some relief, Britannian, although he has never seen someone with such keen, catlike eyes. Even her name is odd, C.C., and she reminds Lelouch of a witch in a fairy tale. But she embraces Marianne like an old friend, and her gaze is not unkind, so Lelouch decides to trust her (although he promises himself to keep an eye on her, in case she decides to lock Nunnally into a tower)._

_With C.C. as a guide, they are led to what would be their new house. Formerly the home of some long forgotten dignitary, the old manor must have once been a large and beautiful property, but now it was rundown and crumbling, nature staking its claim with vines and weeds. It is nothing like the Britannian palace, but after countless months living as a stowaway, Lelouch knows better than to expect luxury, barely even remembers what it looks like. The house is intact, has room to move, and most importantly, is not floating on the water, so Lelouch is content._

_The years spent in that house are happy, although not without its conflicts. It isn't easy for Marianne to adjust to being a cultural minority. C.C. acts as translator, and the Japanese tolerate her presence, but Marianne clings desperately to a Britannia that does not exist in this land. She tries to keep the house as Britannian as possible, but trade to outside countries is rare, and she fears her children are forgetting the land that gave birth to them. And the faint hint of anxiety never really leaves her. She can't help constantly looking over her shoulder._

_"If anything ever happens to me, I want you to run, Lelouch. Take Nunnally and run," she says adamantly, forces a frightened Lelouch to promise._

_At first, Lelouch is much like his mother, cautious and reclusive, but the outside world contains too many wonders, too much to see and explore. Despite her best efforts, Marianne cannot keep a curious child from wandering off (and his sister follows, because she always does). In truth, Lelouch has little in common with the children running through the streets, but the adults see the young, pale children as adorable novelties, offering sweets and conversation largely characterized by hand gestures. (And there are some who don't look on the foreigners so kindly, some with cold eyes and angry voices, but Lelouch does not notice this, for Lelouch is a child, and he lives in a child's world.)_

_And there is music, always music, from the faint strains he catches ear of from doorways to the bright, colorful sounds of festival. It is a different sort of music than Lelouch is used to; slower, simpler, less weighed down with embellishment, but it is beautiful, and there are times where Marianne finds her son lifting his voice in wordless accompaniment while passersby look on in awe._

_But Lelouch loves his mother's voice the best. She sings to he and Nunnally before they sleep, the songs interchangeable with beautiful stories of ghouls and goblins and an Angel of Music. Some nights, if they're really lucky, she'll pull out her violin, and Lelouch will sing and Nunnally will dance, and it is hours before they ever get to sleep._

_It is on one of these nights, after Lelouch and Nunnally finally drift off, that Marianne shakes them awake._

_"Lelouch, Nunnally, I need you to wake up. Please, it's important."_

_Lelouch blinks sleepily. "Mother? Wha-"_

_"Get up," Marianne orders, throwing a pile of clothes on the bed. "Help Nunnally dress."_

_Lelouch, now eight years old, immediately understands the urgency, so he nudges Nunnally awake and scrambles to get ready. The clothes Marianne has supplied are for outdoor travel - boots, cloaks, gloves - and Lelouch wonders with a sinking heart if they are running away again, for it is not the first time Marianne has forced them to flee in the cover of night._

_Marianne is waiting outside the door, and she urges them forward, almost at a run. When Nunnally, unsteady on her chubby legs, stumbles, Marianne scoops her up and runs faster._

_They are at the stairs when Lelouch sees them: men veiled in black. His eyes catch the glimmer of a blade, and he barely has time to cry out before Marianne turns around, and suddenly it's Nunnally in one hand, sword in another as she quickly dispatches her would-be assassin. She appears to be holding her own, displaying skill Lelouch would never imagined his gentle mother capable of, and it seems like they will get away._

_Then he realizes that one is holding a gun, and this time, he can't open his mouth soon enough. Marianne is shot, the bullet tearing through her side, and she only has enough time to run her last attacker through before she is falling, falling down the grand staircase, her body curled around Nunnally, and Lelouch can hear his sister screaming as he watches in horror._

_"Mother! Nunnally!" Lelouch cries, scrambling to the bottom of the stairs where Marianne's form lays crumpled, her body crushing little Nunnally into the floor. He takes in the sight of his motionless sister, his mother contorted unnaturally around her, and he realizes that he cannot breathe._

_**"Run, Lelouch! Take Nunnally and run!"** _ _He remembers his mother's words, his promise, but Nunnally lies motionless. How can he run with the dead?_

_"Mother," Lelouch whimpers. "Mother, why? I can't-"_

_Marianne reaches out and grips Lelouch's hand, eyes wild and breathing strained._

_"Forget this, Lelouch!" she begs, for she can't stand the horror in her son's eyes. She is dying, her daughter's tiny body is broken; Lelouch is her only hope, her last child. But he is so small, so fragile, and Marianne knows with unflinching certainty that this night, these memories, will destroy him. "Forget me, forget Nunnally, everything! Please, please forget...everything."_

_Her hand falls limp. Lelouch screams and Marianne stares at him blankly, and the only thing he knows is that he needs to get away from those eyes. So he runs, runs into the rain, faster and faster, and he trips and crashes, but still he runs. He runs until he cannot move anymore._

_And all the while, the words play in his mind: Forget! Forget! Forget everything!_

_But he can't forget, for the memories are inside his head, raw and bloody, even as he repeats to himself over and over again: "Forget. Forget. Forgetforgetforgetforgetforget! Please!"_

_**"You wish to forget?"** _

_It isn't Lelouch's voice. It is stronger, deeper, and infinitely more beautiful. So beautiful the tears stop flowing down Lelouch's cheeks, and he cocks an ear to listen as he nods eagerly._

_**"I will help you forget."** _

_Music fills Lelouch's mind, a soft, wordless lullaby of such beauty Lelouch can only imagine that it is the Angel of Music singing songs in his head, just like Little Lottie._

_And then there is pain, a splitting, aching pain as if his soul is being torn apart, as if something is emerging, awakening. He head pounds, his eyes burn, and the music plays on as images flash through his mind. People, places, his entire life glows bright and disappears._

_And finally the pain vanishes, the music fades, and the boy forgets._

* * *

C.C. stepped out of the bedroom, silently closing the door behind her and meeting the frantic gazes of prince and pauper alike with her usual cool detachment. "He is still asleep," she said, reading the question on both their faces. "But he is breathing again. Stable."

It was not even ten minutes ago that Suzaku had run Lelouch up to the only sanctuary they knew - his room in the attic. Reflecting now, it probably wasn't the best of ideas; the stale, dusty air more than likely horrible for Lelouch's condition. But no one had objected (or if they had, Suzaku hadn't heard them, so focused was he on Lelouch); Schneizel and C.C. had followed wordlessly behind him (Kanon remaining with Nunnally), keeping up with his sprint effortlessly and allowing him a moment as he'd lain Lelouch gingerly on the bed and checked his vitals.

That was when he'd discovered Lelouch was hardly breathing. The pulse in his veins had been weak, struggling, and C.C. had ushered them out with an impassive face - against Suzaku's and (surprisingly) Schneizel's protests.

"Can I see him?" Just to reaffirm Lelouch was going to be alright, Suzaku needed to see him - touch him; feel the pulse fluttering beneath that fragile skin and know Lelouch was a fighter and would hold on for him.

C.C. shook her head. "For the time being, I think it is best he remains undisturbed."

"Of course," Schneizel agreed before Suzaku had the chance to say otherwise. Suzaku glanced at him quickly before focusing back on the door, longing making his heart ache in his chest. "There are some important matters for us to discuss in the meantime."

What could be more important than being with Lelouch? That was what Suzaku wished to demand of the prince, but as always Schneizel's authoritative tone left no room for argument.

"You can't really think-" C.C. began, her expression bored as always.

Schneizel held up a hand to stop her. "My lady, I honestly do believe my thoughts will be of little surprise to you."

C.C. smiled in that secretive way of hers. Suzaku's eyes widened at the confirmation of what he'd suspected all along: C.C. knew far more than she let on - about Lelouch, possibly also about Zero.

"My prince," she said, amused, "I know a great many things, but I'm afraid that power does not extend to reading minds."

Schneizel chuckled softly, but the humor was lost on Suzaku. He was tired of secrecy, of veiled truths. Lelouch was in that room alone, suffering in ways that were obviously of a common occurrence, and they were still being fed lies about what was really going on. Schneizel and C.C. may have been content passing the time with witty banter but Suzaku certainly wasn't. He wanted answers.

"Then what does it extend to?" he demanded, gaining both C.C. and the prince's attention. Suzaku tried not to feel intimidated; what could these people really do to him? In the face of Lelouch's health, punishment was of little consequence to Suzaku. "You obviously know about this - about Lelouch. This has happened before and you've hidden it from me-"

"Boy," C.C. interjected, but Suzaku didn't allow her time to say more. He shook his head, advancing on the woman and pointing at the attic door.

"I have a right to know! Lelouch is my - Lelouch is..." The words died in his throat. The nature of his and Lelouch's relationship was obviously no longer a secret after the events of the Masquerade ball, but to actually voice it - and in front of Prince Schneizel. Suzaku blushed, swallowing thickly. He was not ashamed of loving Lelouch; it was quite the opposite. He did not want anyone thinking any less of Lelouch for sharing those feelings.

"Lelouch is the only thing I have left... It's my duty to protect him," he said finally.

There was a long stretch of silence, during which Suzaku glanced uncertainly between the pair, awaiting some form of rejection or a sign of disgust. Instead he found Schneizel smiling fondly at him. It was a strange expression that Suzaku did not know what to make of.

"Such loyalty," the prince commended.

"Or stupidity," C.C. countered. "I wonder if you would still feel that way..." Her voice trailed off.

Suzaku's brow furrowed skeptically. What could possibly change those feelings? The love and loyalty he felt towards Lelouch was so deeply ingrained in his heart... nothing could remove them. Even if Lelouch one day decided Suzaku was not worth his affection (and Suzaku knew he wasn't) it would never make Suzaku stop loving him.

C.C. shrugged. "I am afraid what you wish to know of me I do not have the power to tell. It is Lelouch's story, not my own, and I will not give away those secrets."

"Even if it is a direct order from your prince?"

C.C. eyed Schneizel for a moment, seeming to weigh the consequences of her response. Suzaku assumed she would relent, and Schneizel obviously did as well if his haughty expression was anything to go by. So it came as a shock to them both when she simply turned her back on them.

"There is only one member of the royal family I take orders from, and she is no longer with us."

* * *

Lelouch's condition brought the production to almost a standstill. This wasn't like when he was in the chorus, an anonymous figure in the background who could slip out of rehearsal without being missed. He was the starring role now, in almost every scene, and trying to work without him was nearly impossible. Bartley was practically seething at his absence, threatening to fire Lelouch on the spot (an empty threat, C.C. had pointed out, for he wasn't exactly running the show anymore, if he ever had).

However, just because rehearsal was on hiatus did not mean that Suzaku got a break. No, he had immediately been commandeered by Kallen because, to Suzaku's horror, it appeared that what the Black Knight lacked in lines, he made up for in dance. Which was how he ended up in a practice room, clad in a leotard as Kallen barked orders at him. They would have needed the rest of the cast to truly practice Suzaku's number (not to mention that Lloyd was apparently rigging up a complicated system of pulleys that Suzaku was expected to utilize), but considering that Suzaku had no formal training in ballet, Kallen felt that an emergency crash course on the basics was in order.

It wasn't as difficult as Suzaku had imagined it. He had always been athletic and flexible, and while Kallen's methods were a bit Spartan, she was a very clear instructor. It reminded Suzaku a bit of martial arts lessons so long ago, Tohdoh's gaze stern but approving as Suzaku contorted his body to follow the flow of movement.

Now, if only he could stop thinking about Lelouch.

C.C. had transferred Lelouch back to the boy's dormitories shortly after her argument with Schneizel, and she refused to allow anyone to see him, despite Suzaku and Nunnally's pleas (Schneizel clearly wished to see him too, but he didn't bother asking, probably aware that it would do no good). It drove Suzaku crazy, not being by Lelouch's side, consumed with confusion and worry, but in a way (and it made Suzaku feel very guilty to admit this), Lelouch's absence was a relief, for as long as he was unconscious, Suzaku could avoid the bigger issue that was Lelouch's newfound family.

Suzaku knew he should be happy for Lelouch.. He had found a brother and sister that obviously still loved him, a home in Britannia that eagerly awaited him (a  _palace_ , no less). Suzaku should be happy. He  _was_ happy. But his traitorous mind couldn't help but ask the inevitable question:  _Where does that leave me?_

He had always known that he wasn't good enough for Lelouch, had accepted it and lived with the fear that one day Lelouch would realize that too, but this was different, for Lelouch was no longer the orphan child without a place to call his own. He was a prince of Britannia, with all the status that came with royalty, along with a father and sixteen other siblings.

The problem was that while Lelouch's position in the world had drastically changed, Suzaku's hadn't. He was still the lowly Eleven stagehand with nothing to offer. He didn't belong in the bright, glittering world of the royal court, didn't fit Britannia's mold of a desirable _human_ , let alone a partner for her prince, and Suzaku couldn't fight the unspeakable terror that Lelouch was going to leave him. They loved each other, Suzaku knew that, but what if that wasn't enough? Lelouch deserved so much more than what Suzaku could give him.

"Back straight, eyes forward, Kururugi! You're not looking for spare change!" Kallen barked.

"R-right. Sorry," Suzaku said, scrambling to correct his posture.

Kallen sighed. "Your form is decent, and you definitely have the stamina to handle what choreography your part demands, but I can't have you spacing out all the time like this. Some of your steps are complicated, especially for a beginner."

"Sorry," Suzaku said again.

"Don't apologize!" Kallen snapped. "Fix it!"

The advice was easier said than done, but Suzaku tried to take it to heart, clearing his mind and focusing only on the simple rhythm Kallen was tapping out with her foot.

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

Keep the beat, eyes forward.

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

Remember the routine. Leap. Turn here.

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

It was nice, really, to not have to think about anything but the next step. To lose himself in movement, the burn of his muscles and the beat of his heart in tune with the soft, familiar music...

_The music?_

Suzaku stopped so abruptly, the spell broken, that he nearly toppled over, saving himself in the last minute with a maneuver that was so awkward and ungraceful that Kallen would have probably had forced him to try it again had she not been so busy cursing at the piano.

Suzaku had heard of the prima ballerina's legendary temper, but hadn't actually seen it in practice till this moment, and was rather shocked to hear such...colorful expletives from a lady who was supposedly of noble class, especially when she ran out of Britannian profanity and switched to what he recognized was Japanese. But Suzaku couldn't really blame her for the outburst, for the piano was once again playing all by itself.

"I'm tired of this!" Kallen exclaimed. "I'm so sick of this damn ghost! His tricks, his 'accidents'. Damn it!"

"That song..." Suzaku murmured.

Kallen glanced at him. "What?"

"That song. I've heard it before."

"Oh." Kallen shrugged. "It's the piece played during the Masquerade ball. It's a major scene, so you probably heard it during rehearsal."

Suzaku shook his head, staring at the piano keys being played by invisible hands.

_Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Hide your face so the world will never find you._

But this... this was Lelouch's song! He had written it, sung the lyrics for Suzaku's ears only. How could it be in Zero's opera? Unless...

Unless Suzaku wasn't the only one who had Zero singing songs in his head.

And suddenly, for the first time in many weeks, Suzaku felt them: the eyes on him, watching him from afar, making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as both anxiety and endless longing curled in his stomach. But stronger than both was the anger, the anger of being forced to move on Zero's strings, anger that he had put everyone in danger, all while Zero continued to hide in the shadows like a coward. Suzaku was so tired of smoke and mirrors, of being watched and played with.

Suzaku slammed his hands down on the piano keys, distorting the sweet melody into something ugly, and walked out of the room.

"Kururugi," Kallen snapped, "where are you going?"

"I'm going to end this," Suzaku answered without looking back. The theatre was practically empty, the performers either practicing individually or enjoying their brief holiday, and the rest hardly noticed as Suzaku passed by on his way to the private boxes.

Compared to dance lessons with Kallen, scaling up to Box Five took very little effort, although Suzaku hadn't done so in months. After a short span of time, he had both legs over the railing.

"Zero," he hissed. "Get out here!"

"Suzaku," the familiar voice floated out, amused. "To what do I owe the pleasure that you have at last graced me with your presence?"

 _So we're back to being a disembodied voice, are we?_ Suzaku rolled his eyes despite himself.

"You know exactly what. That little trick with the piano."

"You didn't like my song?" Zero asked, feigning hurt.

"It's not yours! That song belongs to Lelouch! How do you even know it?"

"Don't compare me to your little suitor." Resentment dripped venomously from Zero's voice, making Suzaku cringe. "I would never take someone else's work, especially that idiot boy you keep around!"

The very notion seemed to deeply offend him, but Suzaku didn't care if he'd poked a hole in Zero's ego. Zero deserved it, and Suzaku was too frustrated by everything happening around him to play nice. "I've heard it. Lelouch sang it to me himself, it's the same!" He wanted to smirk, rub it in Zero's face - that despite all the times Zero claimed Lelouch was lazy and untalented, Lelouch had managed to create something beautiful and inspiring.

"Are you sure about that?" Zero asked, his voice breathing doubt into Suzaku's belief. "Are you sure that your ears were not mistaken?"

Was he? It didn't seem like Zero was lying, and now that Suzaku thought about it, his memories of the song were not entirely clear. He remembered Lelouch's breath against his ear, soft whispered words and a gentle melody... but there had been so much music playing... and Suzaku had been so sleepy...

Suzaku changed gears. There were more important matters at hand than the origin of a song. "Why are you doing this?"

"Is it so wrong to want to see my masterpiece performed?" Zero wondered.

"Through blackmail and threats? What you did to Clovis-"

Zero scoffed. "Clovis was a pathetic waste of air and space. I did the world a favor by disposing of him."

Even though he knew Zero's crime, some part of Suzaku had still hoped that he hadn't been responsible. Hearing that voice so callously confirm the opposite hurt. To know Zero played with human life as if it were of no value, treated people like mere chess pieces on a board. "How could you?"

"How could I  _not,_ after what he tried to do to you," Zero countered. "You and so many others."

Suzaku shook his head. Just as he'd thought; his fault. "Why? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You don't really want that, do you?" Zero asked, his voice warm and gentle, washing over Suzaku and filling his senses as he bit back a sigh. He had forgotten how beautiful Zero's voice could be.

"I-" Suzaku stammered, suddenly losing track of all the arguments he might have made. "I..."

"You were so lonely before I came to you, so sad and lost. You and I, we were happy together, were we not?"

"Well... yeah, I guess, but-"

"You've lost your way, Suzaku, strayed too far from my gaze. But we can make amends. Come back to me, my angel," Zero whispered.

_Come back to me._

Contentment snaked around him, warming his body and easing his troubled mind. Suzaku found himself taking a step forward, towards the unseen voice hiding in the shadows.

_Come back, come back. Come back to me._

Wildly, Suzaku's mind beat against Zero's words, but he could feel his soul obeying, his body surrendering to an irresistible compulsion.

"Do not resist me, Suzaku," Zero murmured gently. "You want this."

_I want this? But I... no. No. I don't want this._

_**I DON'T WANT THIS!** _

"Stop!" Suzaku cried. "Stop it." He shook his head rapidly, blinking away the odd glaze that had clouded his vision, and he was surprised to find that he was panting.

"Suzaku—"

"No!" Suzaku snapped, hating that he had been weak enough to so easily lose sight of what mattered to him. "I'm not some wandering child, helpless and in need of your guidance! I can make my own choices, and I choose to stay here, with Lelouch."

"Lelouch! Always Lelouch!" Zero sounded furious, and Suzaku was actually afraid of what that anger might bring about. Almost as quickly as it came it was gone, replaced by a raw agony that made Suzaku's heart ache. " _Why_ , Suzaku? Why must you continue to betray me?"

"...I didn't betray you, Zero," Suzaku said, his voice a fraction gentler. He hated the thought of hurting him, but he had never promised Zero anything more than friendship. "I fell in love."

Zero laughed mirthlessly.

Suzaku flushed, but did not abandon his argument this time. "I fell in love," he repeated, a bit more firmly. "I'm sorry if that hurts you, but I'm not going to apologize for how I feel."

"And what of Lamperouge," Zero said. "The Eleventh Prince? Surely you realize there's no place for you in the Britannian palace. What will you do?"

Suzaku smiled. "I'll stay with him. For as long as he wants me, I'll stay by his side." The words lifted a great weight from Suzaku's chest, for in them he'd found the answer to his inner turmoil - and it was so simple. He would remain by Lelouch's side until the moment his prince dismissed him, and not a second sooner. For the time being, that was all he needed to know.

"Stop this game, Zero," Suzaku pleaded. "Whatever you think you will gain from this, I assure you, won't go as planned. Stop toying with all our lives and show some compassion."

"Why should I?" The frigid edge had returned to Zero's voice. Prince Schneizel had said the Phantom was childish, and in this moment Suzaku had to agree. "The world showed no compassion to me! No, the show must go on. I will have my Requiem!"

Suzaku closed his eyes, recognizing in Zero's petulant tone that there was nothing more he could do. "Fine," he said. He had tried to play peacemaker, some selfish part of him still hoping that he could have both his lover  _and_ his friend, but he could see that was impossible now. If Zero was making him choose, Suzaku knew what side he would always remain on.

"Have your opera if you think it will make you happy, but know that when the curtain falls, I won't be there." With that, Suzaku turned back to the railing of Box Five. But before he began his descent, his gaze turned towards the darkness, eyes cold. "And if you hurt Lelouch, I will never forgive you."

* * *

_Snow._

_In every direction, stretching as far as the eye can see, there was only snow. It blanketed the ground he walked on - pure and undisturbed save for where his feet made soft imprints on the path behind him. It gathered on bare tree branches and fell from the gray sky in thick flakes. A winter wonderland in every sense of the word._

_Some may have found it beautiful but Lelouch was only cold. Cold, and lonely. The wind whipped at his hair and he clutched his blanket closer around himself, feeling his knees shake and knock together as he continued down the path, searching desperately for a sanctuary or a friendly face or any sign of home._

Home?

_The word was as unfamiliar to him as this desolate landscape, rolling around aimlessly in his mind._

What is that?

_Immediately his mind conjured up several answers, none of which seemed correct to Lelouch._

_Home was a building; a dwelling in which one lived. Lelouch had the opera house, but no attachment to it the way one should their home. In fact, for some reason, he thought he wouldn't be there much longer, but he couldn't remember why that was._

_Home was family, a group of relatives. Lelouch did not have any that he could recall._

_Home was where the heart lay. And wasn't there somewhere his heart lay? Wasn't there_ someone...?

_Yes. He could see it... A hand entwined with his own, a smile and a flash of emerald eyes. Strong arms around his waist and a kiss against his brow, and that must be what home felt like. That unshakable warmth and security..._

_Lelouch blinked and it was gone. He stood in a graveyard, still shivering with only his blanket to ward off the frigid air._

_"There's nothing left. Nothing but ghosts."_

_Startled, Lelouch turned back around. His only companions were stone angels, the black-and-white portraits whose dead eyes stared at him from the surrounding graves. "Who's there?"_

_"And whose fault is that, I wonder..." the voice continued, heedless of Lelouch. "You do not have a home because you destroyed it. You do not have a family because you killed them. This dark gift of yours is a terror. From the inside out it will erode you, and you won't be able to stop yourself from destroying everything you love - destroying Suzaku."_

Suzaku!

_"No!" Lelouch collapsed beside the nearest gravestone. There was no one there; the voice seemed to issue from his mind, as he'd heard it many times before. This dark, seducing voice that both threatened and adored. The voice he heard in the Opera and in his dreams, the voice that always seemed to find him, that only he seemed to hear._

_He whimpered, braced his hands against his ears and tried to force the voice out because he knew what they did to people like him - people who were sick, incurable, insane, who hurt others without meaning to..._

_"Poor child..."_

_He stopped. Forgot how to breathe._

_Someone stood ahead of him, swathed in a midnight cloak. A shadow roughly his own height and yet, at the same time, so much larger._

_"Su... zaku?" It could only be Suzaku coming for him; he had no one else. And that was okay, because as long as he had Suzaku he didn't need anything else... Right?_

_"So lost, so helpless."_

_He was helpless, wasn't he? And all his life he'd tried to be so strong, independent... The truth was, he was neither of those things. When that darkness crept along the corners of his mind and his entire being ached for reasons he could not fathom, could not remember, all he could do was tremble and recoil, fall into a the soothing darkness that awaited him. He could not fight it, he could never..._

_"Who is it there?" His voice was soft, weak even to his own ears, and for once Lelouch could not bring himself to care. He was tired of pretending to be something he wasn't; pretending to be strong and in control when all he wanted was to curl into himself and scream. In this place, this winter graveyard, he was so alone, and all he wanted was—_

_His angel—_

_Suzaku—_

_His_ savior.

_A pair of arms wrapped around him, cradling him to a warm chest and Lelouch clutched at the darkness, welcoming it. He nestled closer, heart frantically beating against his rib cage as long fingers carded through his hair._

_"Too long you've wandered in winter, Lelouch," the shadow spoke, and Lelouch closed his eyes in silent acquiescence, allowing his head to be tipped back to expose a vulnerable throat. "With no memories, no sense of who you are..." Gloved fingers ghosted over the veins closest to the surface. "Missing that vital part which could complete you._ Shunning  _it."_

_"No," Lelouch gasped, fingers tightening around the phantom's cloak. "I didn't mean to-"_

_"Hush now." Warm lips brushed against his forehead. Lelouch took in a shuddering breath. "You denied me, Lelouch, but I am willing to show you kindness again."_

_Lelouch nodded eagerly, opening himself up for the shadow even as his heart throbbed in protest against the very idea. This wasn't right. these were not the arms meant to hold him, this was not the voice he followed. This warmth, comforting though it was, was not real, and neither was the salvation being offered._

_The Phantom seemed to sense his anxiety. It draped over Lelouch, whispering soothingly. "It's all right, Lelouch. It will all be over soon."_

_Lelouch's head lolled to the side, his body suddenly heavy and very much not his own. His eyes rolled back, seeing endless black and then a flash of gray - the headstone of the grave on which they lay._

_"Sink into the deep," a voice sang to him. "Cool and crisp and kind..."_

_The past would unwind and none of it would matter; who he was, who he may have been... Nothing. Lelouch smiled._

_"Then drift off to sleep..."_

_Yes._   _He wanted to. He was so, so tired... Of everything..._

_A pair of lips covered his own, and Lelouch sighed happily, glad for his last memory to be of Suzaku. He brought his hands up, arching and opening his mouth..._

_But this was not the sort of kiss Lelouch was used to receiving. Not Suzaku's gentle reverence or uncertain dominance, and there was none of Suzaku's love behind it. Rather, it was as if the very breath was being pulled out from his lungs, bits and pieces of his soul being sucked away with every bruising movement of those lips, the tongue laving the roof of his mouth._

_Lelouch choked and shook his head, the shadows tightening around him as he tried to break free. He pushed at narrow shoulders and turned his head, meeting the gravestone and the name etched into the smooth granite._

_**Lelouch vi Britannia.** _

_No... No!_

_This wasn't possible - couldn't be real. Just another nightmare, conjured up by Zero to frighten him away. Lelouch began to truly struggle against the Phantom's hold, shouts of protest tearing from his throat as he was wrestled onto back, the cloak ripped from his naked shoulders to bear him before a pair of cold, glaring crimson eyes, and a face that was horrifyingly, hauntingly familiar to him._

_He screamed._

* * *

It took Lelouch a long moment to recognize the room he was in. It had been so long since he had seen the inside of the boy's dorm, so long since he had woken up to stark walls and and an empty bed.

Unlike the other chorus members, Lelouch had never shared a room. C.C. had ensured him a tiny, one room abode, and while before he had appreciated the privacy (despite the resulting rumors that the reason he didn't frequent the public dormitories was because he was sleeping with the choir director, made especially disturbing since he had moved in at the age of  _ten_ ), now it seemed incredibly lonely, especially with his mind still chasing the dregs of a nightmare. He missed the comfortable chaos of Suzaku's room, the warm, tender embrace he woke to every morning, so unlike another pair of arms, trying to pull him under, to sink him into the deep-

No, it was just a dream and nothing more. Lelouch would not think about it anymore. There were more important things to contemplate.

_What happened to me?_

It was not the first time Lelouch had woken up with no idea where he was. He had been prone to these episodes all his life, and had developed a system to deal with it. First order of business was to find C.C. and get her to fill him in on what he had missed.

Lelouch sighed, dressing quickly and opening the door-

-only to have Suzaku fall forward into his room. Lelouch stared at Suzaku sprawled out on the floor, smiling fondly. No doubt C.C. had banned him visitors, so Suzaku had set up vigil outside his door, probably making himself sick with worry.

Paying no heed to his little tumble, Suzaku sprang up, pulling Lelouch into a hug. Lelouch allowed it, leaning against him and letting out a quiet sigh.  _Ah_ , yes this was exactly what he had needed.

"You're up! We were all so worried!" Suzaku didn't miss a beat, inspecting Lelouch for any visible injuries. Lelouch smiled and attempted to bat his hands away, to no avail. Only when Suzaku was satisfied there were no oozing wounds did he speak again. "What happened to you?"

There was a certain art to dodging questions, Lelouch had discovered over the years. One had to be vague, but not so vague that the other person felt you were hiding something, subtly allow them to fill in the blanks themselves and make their own conclusions, and sprinkle in some truth here and there to protect yourself from the resulting fight when it all eventually blew up in your face.

"I fainted," Lelouch replied with a shrug. "It happens. Singers use up too much breath energy, stand for too long without relaxing, and the body eventually just gives out. I haven't been sleeping very well, either. Nightmares."

Suzaku raised an eyebrow. "You weren't singing when you fainted, nor had you been standing for an extended period of time."

When half truths didn't work, sometimes a man had to outright lie to cover his ass. "Suzaku-"

Suzaku shook his head. "No. It's okay if you don't tell me. I - well, I don't understand, but I know you must have your reasons. But please don't lie to me, Lelouch."

"I-I'm sorry," Lelouch whispered, and the look Suzaku gave him, so sweet and so sad, almost made Lelouch want to tell Suzaku everything. His headaches, his blackouts, everything. But there was still that nagging feeling the back of his mind, that terrible fear that if Suzaku knew about his... condition, knew that there was something about him not right, not  _normal_ , he would be rejected, sent to some horrible place where they kept people like him strapped to a bed to prevent them from hurting themselves and others.

 _And maybe he would be right to do so,_ that traitorous voice, the one that haunted his dreams, whispered, which Lelouch silenced firmly with a small shake of his head.

Suzaku looked into Lelouch's eyes, perhaps searching for answers, but when his face yielded nothing (Lelouch made sure of that) he shrugged and reached for Lelouch's hand. "We should tell Nunnally that you're awake. She's been really worried about you."

He gave Lelouch a small tug in the direction where presumably the princess was, but Lelouch stood his ground. "Nunnally? You mean the princess? What does she care about my health?"

Suzaku looked surprised. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Lelouch asked with a sinking feeling, mentally backpedaling through what had occurred before he had fainted. He remembered a private show, the first few notes of  _'Hail Britannia'_ , and then...

"When you sang for her... I thought-"

"Suzaku, what are you talking about?" Lelouch demanded, slightly irritated.

Suzaku stared at the floor, shifting his weight from foot to foot. An obvious stall tactic, and Lelouch was about to call him on it when Suzaku finally gave him his answer. "You're Nunnally's brother. The Eleventh Prince, Lelouch vi Britannia."

Lelouch laughed. He knew he shouldn't, for the expression on Suzaku's face was entirely serious, but he couldn't help himself. "Don't be ridiculous. Me, a prince?"

But he couldn't deny the tiny spark of recognition that went up his spine at the thought. The empty gaps, all those years he couldn't remember. Didn't  _want_ to remember.

"I know it sounds crazy-"

"It sounds  _insane_ ," Lelouch corrected. "Suzaku, you know me. Do you honestly think I of all people am born of royalty? I used to sing on the streets just to keep from starving!"

Suzaku leaned forward, eyes earnest. "But the prince has been lost for years. Lost  _here_ , in Area 11 after the assassination of Marianne-"

_Forget this, Lelouch! Forget everything!_

"I don't want to hear this!" Lelouch snapped, trying to shut out the sudden flash of pain, the images of dead lavender eyes and blood spattered skin. "I'm not Lelouch vi Britannia!"

"But you look like her!" Suzaku protested. "I've seen the pictures of Marianne. You could be her son! You could have a family, a home, everything! How can you deny it, just throw that all away so easily?"

"I don't need to be Lelouch vi Britannia," Lelouch cried. "My family is you, my home is  _you_! You  _are_ my everything, Suzaku!"

Suzaku stared at him, momentarily stunned silent. "Y-you can't mean that. Nunnally and Prince Schneizel are offering so much more than anything I can give. You've always deserved better than me, Lelouch. You think you want to stay with me now, but eventually you'll regret that decision; you'll resent me-"

"Suzaku, have you ever known me to be prone to flights of fancy?"

Suzaku hesitated. "Well, no-"

"No," Lelouch agreed. "Do you honestly believe I would suggest running away together if I wasn't fully committed? If I hadn't thought it entirely through?"

"But—"

Lelouch let out an exasperated sigh, taking Suzaku's hands in his own. "No matter where I am, how rich or how poor, as long as you're with me, I'm happy. I've said it before, and I'll say it as many times as it takes to sink into that thick skull of yours: I love you. You are the only one in the world that I need."

"But Prince Schneizel and Nunnally—" Suzaku protested.

"—don't know me," Lelouch finished for him. "Even if I am their long lost brother, a claim I am still not ready to believe, when they look at me they see that little boy that was lost all those years ago. I'm not their prince. Even if I was born the prince, I'm not him anymore. I'm that little street urchin who you saved a coin for, the boy who fell in love with you. Whatever those people are offering, I don't want it. Not if you're not with me."

Since words never seemed to work on Suzaku, Lelouch emphasized his point with a kiss, running his tongue over Suzaku's bottom lip and biting lightly before pulling away.

Taken by surprise, Suzaku was momentarily flustered, but Lelouch was pleased to see the tension in Suzaku's shoulders begin to relax. He must have worked himself up worrying about this, Lelouch reflected wryly. Yet another argument started because of Suzaku's insecurity.

"You're an idiot," Suzaku said, but the insult had no bite to it, Suzaku's mouth spreading into a relieved smile.

Lelouch sighed, looking over Suzaku fondly. "No more than you are. Honestly, Suzaku, what am I going to do with you? I leave you alone for a moment, and the next thing I know you have all these silly thoughts in your head."

Suzaku gave him an odd look. "Three days."

"What?"

"You haven't been out for a moment, Lelouch. You've been out three days," Suzaku explained.

"No," Lelouch said, as a cold feeling spread down his spine. "Three days? No, that can't be right."

"It is," Suzaku insisted.

It shouldn't have come as such a surprise. Lelouch had certainly been out for three days before, sometimes longer. But it hadn't  _felt_ like three days. His mind wasn't drowsy, his limbs didn't have the heavy, lethargic feeling that came with an extended period of unconsciousness. He felt like he had been up only moments ago.

"I need to find C.C.," Lelouch said, brushing past Suzaku.

"C.C.?" Suzaku repeated. "Why?"

Lelouch shook his head. "Don't ask."

* * *

Outside of C.C.'s quarters Lelouch experienced his first bout of hesitation. This was a meeting Lelouch would have preferred to make unaccompanied, but he couldn't exactly ask Suzaku to leave without making his lover suspicious. No excuse he could make would deter Suzaku, not when it came to a matter of Lelouch's health. It had been nearly impossible to get Suzaku to agree to take him to C.C. to begin with, Suzaku insisting Lelouch needed to lay back down lest he strain himself and Lelouch complaining about Suzaku concerning himself for no reason.

"I'm fine," he insisted, seeing Suzaku was still giving him that worried look. "Everything is fine, Suzaku."

Suzaku shook his head. "Maybe right now," he agreed, "but... It's just... if something is wrong, I want to know about it. I want to be able to help if it happens again."

Lelouch suppressed a shudder at the thought of it happening again - succumbing to another bout of nightmares only to wake and discover another several days had passed without his knowledge. Too long this pattern had been going on; Lelouch was tired of it, tired of living a life in fear of that next episode, having to rely only on C.C. to help him through it. C.C., whom Lelouch still did not know, even after all these years, if he could trust.

"And I want you with me," he said, meaning every word of it. Suzaku's loyalty was still something that overwhelmed him. It was one of the many things he loved about Suzaku - one of the many things that made Lelouch himself feel unworthy. There was so much Suzaku did not know about him - so many things Lelouch did not know about himself. It baffled him how Suzaku could so blindly give over his love and devotion despite that. "I just..."

There were things Lelouch suspected, theories he did not want to be made aware of. He didn't want anything to drive them apart, didn't want misunderstandings like those theories might inspire.

Resolved, Lelouch leaned over, brushing a kiss to the corner of Suzaku's mouth. "Let me speak to her alone. C.C. is a strange woman, but she's been taking care of me for as long as I can remember. I'm safe in her care." Suzaku opened his mouth to protest, but Lelouch kissed him again. "I'll find you after," he promised.

Suzaku searched his eyes when Lelouch pulled away, trying so hard to find the truth Lelouch kept masterfully hidden. Finally he relented, sighing heavily. "I hope one day there won't be any secrets between us," he said before at last allowing Lelouch to walk away.

Lelouch hoped so too. But as long as these holes in his mind existed, as long as his questions remained unanswered, he knew it couldn't be so. Not only that, but Suzaku had his own demons to face; whatever connected him to Zero needed to be destroyed and so far Suzaku was only reluctantly participating in their plot to capture the phantom. Even if Lelouch received the answers he sought, he and Suzaku would still remain separated unless Suzaku committed to leaving Zero behind him.

But now was not the time to think about Zero.

"You may feel that way, but this discussion is impossible to have without him."

Lelouch wasn't even surprised C.C. seemed to know the very thoughts crossing his mind. He'd always likened the woman to a witch, not just because of her outlandish appearance and unusual name but because she just  _knew_ things. Like a fortune teller from the traveling fairs, only C.C.'s ability was not an act. As a child that ability had frustrated him, because it meant she always knew what he was up to - when he was lying to get away with something he shouldn't have done, like stealing dessert before supper - but now Lelouch was depending on it.

After checking to make sure Suzaku was no longer in sight, he closed the door behind himself. "And what do you mean by that?" he wondered, dark eyes searching the room.

C.C. stood before a bookshelf in the corner of the room, a photograph in her hands. "I mean that Zero is always present."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "Yes, he sees everything."

"Wrong. I am his eyes and ears to the Avalon. Everything else is smoke and mirrors - or at least it was, until recently."

"I don't understand." Lelouch hated to admit it, but C.C.'s riddles had always baffled him and now especially it was aggravating to be presented with them. C.C. had to be aware of his questions; he wished she would just give him the answers he sought.

C.C. laughed softly. "You and Zero are more similar than either of you would like to admit," she said, crossing to him.

"I don't care about Zero."

"Well you should. Understanding your enemy is the key to destroying him, is it not?"

Lelouch blinked. Of course he knew that, it was why he'd demanded Suzaku tell him everything he knew about the Phantom - but to hear C.C. talk about destroying Zero surprised him. All this time he had suspected C.C. and Zero to be allies. "You aren't loyal to him?" Just because C.C. may not be on Zero's side did not necessarily mean she was on Lelouch's; he still had to be weary of her. She had taken care of him as a child but that did not mean she actually cared.

Again C.C. looked down at the photograph in her hands. "I am only loyal to one person, and Zero's presence is a constant reminder of how I've failed her."

"So you wish him dead." Curiosity drew Lelouch closer, until he came to stand at C.C.'s side. The picture she held was a faded portrait of a fierce young woman with dark hair who was both familiar and unrecognizable to Lelouch. Instead of the full gowns fashionable for women of high class, the woman in the photograph was dressed in a suit of pure white, a sword at her hip. It was a Knight's uniform - something he'd tried to recreate with scraps of fabric from the costume room for Suzaku to wear at the masquerade - and on the woman it looked strangely fitting. What made the picture even more bizarre was the infant in the woman's arms.

C.C. pressed the photo against her bosom. "The things I wish for do not matter."

There was something in her voice - an emotion he'd never associated with C.C.:  _sadness_. But as quickly as it came it was gone, leaving Lelouch skeptical of if it had even been there in the first place.

"You've been gone for three days," she informed him. "As I'm sure you're already aware since you've already spoken with Kururugi. That boy is quite the prying Pandora." Lelouch agreed, but he knew Suzaku only pressed the issue because he loved him. C.C. rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's very sweet, but unless he learns to control himself the habit will do more harm than good."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes. He highly doubted Suzaku being concerned for his health would share any of the devastating results of Pandora giving into curiosity and opening the box that contained the world's evils. Really, and C.C. accused him of being  _over dramatic_. "He just doesn't understand. And neither do I, to be honest, so I can't exactly blame him." Though he  _did_ think it was annoying when Suzaku tried to mother him. "There are so many questions..."

"Perhaps there are some questions best left unanswered."

Lelouch could not argue that, and while there were many truths about himself he wished to learn - who he was, where he came from, if he was really Lelouch vi Britannia or just a part of a big misunderstanding - none of it really mattered. As he'd told Suzaku and the visions in his nightmare: the person he had been before he lost his memories did not shape who he was today. His old past was inconsequential because he was looking toward the future - a future with Suzaku, far away from the ghosts that haunted them in Area 11.

Still... there was one thing plaguing him since the nightmares began:

"I think Zero and I are connected."

He watched as the statement sunk in. As usual, C.C.'s face betrayed no emotion. She blinked, tilted her head to the side, but that was all. Licking his lips, Lelouch tried to explain the reasoning behind his theory - telling C.C. of the dreams, the soothing voice that sang so gently and threatened him in the same breath.

When he was finished and his eyes were searching C.C.'s imploringly, C.C. merely stretched and returned the photograph to the bookshelf. "When Pandora opened the box, all of the world's darkness escaped. She tried to close the lid again but already it was too late to stop what had been done. Evil was released on the world. However." She paused, caught his gaze. "One thing remained at the bottom of the box. It is the one thing we can never lose, no matter how dire the situation."

Lelouch knew the tale. "Elpis," he said, finishing the story.

C.C. smiled. "The spirit of hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I dropped the ball and forgot to post last week. I'll try not to let it happen again. Hope the chapter makes up for it!


	10. The Final Threshold

A little under a week until opening night, and Suzaku was feeling the stress. After Lelouch rejoined the theater company, they had to rush through scenes, working long hours to get everything prepared to accommodate Zero's very detailed specifications on everything from scenery, to stage directions, to costume designs. Not a moment went by when Suzaku wasn't being yelled at, and/or poked and prodded with last minute alterations to his costume.

He was becoming intimately aware of why he had never wanted to be on stage as nerves fluttered in his stomach, and to make matters worse, much of his choreography involved a complicated rope and pulley system that relied heavily on the support of the stagehands, who he  _knew_ resented him now all the more for his rise in status. They had already "accidentally" loosened their collective grip several times during rehearsal, and it was only Lloyd yelling at them to not harm his "precious machine" (Suzaku wasn't entirely sure if he meant him or the pulley) that prevented them from dropping him altogether.

Needless to say, this left no time to talk to Lelouch. Suzaku couldn't deny that he was intensely curious about what he and C.C. had talked about, but Lelouch was so immersed in work he had no chance to pry.

This also seemed to be upsetting Lelouch's would-be siblings, who continuously tried to pull him aside to speak to him, only to have Lelouch essentially brush them off in favor of practicing some aria, or going over his stage directions again. Suzaku had practiced the art of avoidance often enough to recognize it, and was certain Schneizel and Nunnally noticed as well.

"Give him time," Suzaku had assured Nunnally, trying to reconcile between his pity for the girl who only wanted to see her brother with the crippling fear that she was going to take Lelouch away from him, and all the possessiveness and jealousy that came with it.

Schneizel knew better than to be relieved by Suzaku's halfhearted assurances, but according to him, whether or not Lelouch wished to return to Britannia was not a decision Schneizel was going to force on him.

"I made a deal with Lelouch, and I will keep my word," Schneizel said. In the midst of all this uncertainty it was reassuring for Suzaku to know he and Lelouch's travel plans were still secure.

The only time Lelouch allowed himself to be alone with the Second Prince was in the evening, somewhere between supper and bed. The two would lock themselves in the study and work on their plan to trap Zero.

"The audience will be filled with the Prince's personal guard," Lelouch explained to Suzaku one evening. "The doors will be barred, of course. Every entrance and door leading underground, but I think Zero must have at least a few secret entrances because no one ever seems to witness his comings and goings. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Lelouch asked, casting Suzaku a knowing glance.

Suzaku squirmed uncomfortably. True to his promise, he had told Lelouch everything about Zero - everything except the numerous secret passageways he utilized throughout the theatre. He didn't know about most of them, for one thing, but more than that he was afraid Schneizel would send soldiers to smoke him out of the tunnels. No one would be able to find his lair using the obvious entrances, Suzaku knew that first hand. Without Zero's guidance, it was impossible to get in... or out. As long as he stayed silent, Zero would be safe.

Lelouch sighed. "I didn't think so. Either way, we'll have the obvious guards, dressed in uniform. He'll be expecting them, but they're only decoys. The real force is directly in the audience, dressed as spectators. Of course, both groups will be armed."

Suzaku paled, clenching his fists. "But... they won't hurt him, will they?" he asked quietly.

"It's not in their orders to kill," Lelouch replied, which wasn't really an answer.

Suzaku deflated. After the way Zero threatened Lelouch, he really shouldn't care. But the thought of Zero being harmed still made his traitorous heart ache. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He'll be arrested," Lelouch answered simply. "After that..." He shrugged indifferently and Suzaku flinched, trying to fight the images of Zero with a hangman's noose around his neck, body limp and unresponsive like - well, like Clovis.

The horror must have been plain on Suzaku's face, for Lelouch frowned, and when he spoke, his voice was heated with jealousy. "He's a murderer, Suzaku. He doesn't deserve your sympathy."

"I know," Suzaku whispered miserably.

" _Do_ you?" Lelouch challenged. "You know what he's done, know what he'll do to us if he isn't stopped, but you still approach this plan with halfhearted efforts. Do you  _want_ to be back in his possession? To be trapped in his grasp, never to see daylight?"

"No!" Suzaku insisted. And he didn't. To go back to that world of unending night was the  _last_  thing he wanted. But he couldn't stop thinking about the strange, sweet sound of Zero's voice, the feel of his arms around his waist as he held Suzaku close, the heat of his lips...

He felt Lelouch caress his face gently. "Suzaku," he said, his voice, tender and loving, a direct contrast to his earlier harshness; "are you mine or aren't you?"

Suzaku shivered faintly, melting into Lelouch's touch. "I am," he whispered, for while Suzaku wasn't certain of much anymore, he was of that, and desperately he wished he could go back to that winter morning when Lelouch had first posed the question. Back when everything had been so much simpler, so much  _clearer_.

Lelouch smiled, brushing his lips across Suzaku's brow. "And I'm yours, and happy to be yours. So tell me, my knight, are you with me on this? Will you help me set you free?"

_Now he's just playing dirty,_  Suzaku reflected. But knowing that did not prevent Suzaku from leaning closer, breathing a soft: "I will." Because he knew Lelouch was right, knew that he couldn't refuse.

But oh, how he wished he could.

The darkness was plagued with nightmares. Suzaku dreaded going to sleep, hated that time after which he shut his eyes where he became most vulnerable, when all his desires and fears were twisted to their most horrific degree and brought to haunt him. Zero, Lelouch, the princess Nunnally... all of them came and went from Suzaku's dreams, digging into Suzaku's subconscious and tearing apart the seams of whatever they could find.

His love for Lelouch, but attraction to Zero. His fear of the royal family taking Lelouch away, and the knowledge that they were probably where Lelouch belonged most. The horror that would come if any harm befell Zero, warring against the equally horrific idea of Zero getting hold of Lelouch.

Even Tohdoh made appearances, towering above him as he'd always seemed to, no matter how many years passed and growth spurts Suzaku went through. He claimed Suzaku had forgotten him, lost his focus and lost sight of the things that really mattered - family, loyalty, honor. There was no honor in what Suzaku was doing now, planning Zero's downfall, and there was no loyalty so long as Suzaku's heart remained so divided.

" _I'm sorry," Suzaku cried, finding himself at Tohdoh's feet. "I'm sorry."_

His eyes snapped open, consciousness returning with a sharply inhaled breath. Tohdoh disappeared along with the other fragmented images of the nightmare, but that sinking feeling remained. Suzaku closed his eyes again and tried reassure himself that everything would be fine, but - who was he kidding? There was nothing fine about this. Even with Lelouch's reassurances and Prince Schneizel's confidence, nothing would ever be _fine_ again.

Everything was his fault. If he'd never befriended Zero, if he'd never allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and ventured into Box Five... Or if he'd never pursued Lelouch, tried to recreate the closeness they'd shared as children and turn it into something more - Or if he'd never come to the Avalon at all... none of this would be happening. Bartley was right about one thing: Suzaku was more trouble than he was worth, and Suzaku did not understand how neither Lelouch nor Zero saw it. Without him Zero would have carried on his lonely existence, but he would be safe and unaware of the company he was missing. And Lelouch... Lelouch would most likely have found someone far more suited to him and taken his place in the royal family, or at the very least taken his career more seriously and made a true name for himself.

_It doesn't matter now._

And it didn't. Tomorrow evening, despite his grievances about it, the curtain would still rise on the Zero Requiem. Everything would change with that performance - in their favor or not, only time would tell - and in the end someone's life would be destroyed. Someone who should be innocent, who maybe would have been if things had worked out differently.

_None of it matters._

Lelouch slept soundly beside him - C.C. and the Second Prince both protested to the arrangement, but as always Lelouch got what he wanted. Suzaku wondered how he could possibly look so at ease when so many lives were at risk - his own included. Lelouch had always possessed the remarkable ability to remain calm in even the direst of circumstances. How much of it was an act Suzaku could only guess, but he envied him that now. He nestled closer, trying to absorb some of that confidence through Lelouch, but even the heat of his lover's back pressed against him brought little comfort.

A long while passed, and then a sigh escaped Suzaku. Slowly he rubbed a hand over Lelouch's arm, the ghost of a smile appearing at the way Lelouch stretched and pressed closer to him, one of his legs sliding up against Suzaku's in a way that any other night might have been arousing. Suzaku leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Lelouch's neck, and Lelouch murmured something that sounded curiously like a line from the opera before settling back into sleep's grasp.

Suzaku watched him for another minute, making sure he was asleep, and then pulled himself from the bed.

He wandered down the staircase, through the deserted halls of the opera house which suited his dark mood far better than the warmth of the attic bedroom. With his current divided thoughts it felt wrong to keep himself in that loving cocoon, even if Lelouch knew of his feelings for Zero.

He hadn't meant to, but his feet instinctively brought him to the house of the theatre, and his hands knew just where to place themselves, and he climbed without being very aware of himself up to Box Five, almost as if in a trance. But it was not like the other times; there was no seductive voice leading the way, no phantom hand in his own to guide him in the right direction. Without needing to look or ask, Suzaku knew Zero was not there. The box was empty, recently cleaned in preparation for opening night, containing not a trace of the ghost (man) who usually occupied it. Not that Zero ever left a trace of being anywhere; it was how he'd managed to survive so long in the Avalon. Still, Suzaku found himself wishing for  _something_.

Suzaku sank into his typical seat at the front of the box, ran his fingers over the plush velvet, and wished for someone to talk to.

The same dangerous wish that had started this mess.

If it were not so sad and frightening, Suzaku might have found the irony humorous. Now it only made his eyes sting.

"My mind thinks of everything and nothing," he whispered into the emptiness, and even that whisper seemed to echo around him. Suzaku curled in on himself, burying his face in his hands and hating those words - those very words which, the following night, Lelouch would open with, a great deal more terrible and beautiful in his rich tenor. Suzaku's untrained voice made the words seem flat and lonely as they seemed on paper. "At war within myself, what is real and what is fiction?"

Suzaku wondered who in fact Zero had written the character of the Emperor to represent, because often the Emperor's thoughts ran parallel to Suzaku's own. As if Zero had seen into his soul, knowing all the ways Suzaku's feelings would morph and change after that single kiss. The Emperor was constantly conflicted between wanting to change the world for the better and wanting to tear it apart as his darkness grows throughout the opera and the Black Knight has more influence over him; his great decision: to go to the light which the princess represents, or to follow the Black Knight into all-consuming darkness. Both equally tempting to him.

"Zero?"

No answer came, not that Suzaku had expected one. He had always been able to sense whenever Zero was near, and the deafening silence of Box Five only confirmed his solitude. Even if he had been there, Suzaku had no idea what he would have said. Surely Zero knew of what was going on; as he'd said before - this was his theatre, and he knew of all its goings-on. Suzaku did not know how he did it, and a large part of him did not want to know, only that he did. Because Zero had somehow always managed to find him when Suzaku needed him.

Except now.

"I'm sorry. It doesn't make a difference, but I am. I really-"

He hesitated. There were so many things he wanted to confess to the empty theatre, but dare he say any of it aloud?

_I really wish things were different._

_I really do love you._

_I really did value our friendship._

Even if he did say it, would it make a difference? Tomorrow night he would still betray Zero.

"I don't want to do this."

He looked to the stage, imagined how it would appear the following evening - the gas lights at the foot of the apron burning and the house quiet with anticipation, the performers still as they waited for the overture to come to an end. Lelouch would stand center stage in all his regalia, beautiful in the porcelain white robes, and opposite of him in an angelic dress of cream and pink would sit Shirley. Suzaku would be holding his breath as he did now, waiting for his cue in the wings - Act I, Scene IV, the Black Knight's first appearance.

And somewhere Zero would be watching.

And somewhere Prince Schneizel would be waiting to give the order to fire.

Suzaku could still back out. If it came down to it, he could refuse to perform. The Prince's schemes - and whatever Zero was certainly planning behind the veil of Zero Requiem... Suzaku did not have to take part in any of it. Sitting here now in Zero's box he could feel himself losing his nerve.

But Lelouch was counting on him. They'd made a bargain with Prince Schneizel, and in order to get what they wanted they first needed to do what was required of them. And he'd made so many promises to Lelouch - that he did not want Zero, that he was ready to leave with Lelouch at the soonest they were able.

There was no way to stop the show. He had to perform.

_Devil take the hindmost._

* * *

Milly regarded her image in the mirror with amusement. Black, voluminous gown, hugging her tightly at the waist and plunging just short of obscene at the neckline. Curls flowing loosely about her shoulders, entwined with black ribbons. Dark, sexy, enchanting.

If Milly's mother had been able to see her now, she would have surely died with shock.

Of course, Milly reflected with a roll of the eyes, if she had ever cared what her mother thought she would not have been here in the first place. She would have become the timid wife of an aristocrat, enabling her family to ride on her advantageous marriage back to a place of privilege.

But Milly had wanted more than the stuffy world of embroidery and place settings that high society deemed appropriate for a lady. She had wanted excitement, love,  _passion_.

The Avalon Opera had provided her with the thrill of the stage, the love of her adoring public... but only the Phantom had ever given her a facsimile of passion.

She had been a bored ballerina before  _he_ came to her. She had joined the Opera late in life, competing against girls who had been training there since childhood, and floundering for the first time. She had been so silly back then, eager to escape from what influence her family still had, but clueless as to how to live without it. It had been so strange for her, not to be the center of attention, to be nothing more than an anonymous pair of legs among countless others.

But then she had heard his voice, whispering in her head. He had seen potential in her, had inspired her voice and launched her career. Through his song, he taught her the thrum of desire, the ache of sadness, the heat of rage. Some nights she would find herself standing onstage, music in her mind and no idea how she had gotten there. And in the time that he had come to her, Milly had heard as she never heard before.

And then it had stopped.

Their meetings had always been erratic. There were periods where she would go weeks or even months without hearing him, but somehow Milly had sensed that it was different, that this time he wasn't coming back. And she hadn't been able to fathom what had gone wrong, what had changed. There was always more to learn - it was something he had drilled into her mind since the very beginning, so she could not understand why he had abandoned her.

And then she had started noticing Suzaku climbing down from Box Five, often late at night with that giddy, slightly dazed smile that had once graced Milly's lips. How his gaze would wander, as if trying to find some invisible being lingering in the air. Then she understood. The Opera Ghost had found a new muse. She'd been replaced, and the brutal, brutal irony was  _she_ had been the one to send Suzaku to him.

(And if she had any denial, Suzaku's inexplicable two week disappearance removed all doubt.)

Surprisingly, Milly found that she couldn't resent Suzaku for it. After all, she never had any illusions about her and the Ghost's relationship, knew whatever emotion they shared was only borrowed from music.

But it still hurt to be left behind.

However, Milly had never been the type to dwell. The show always, always went on, so she stayed silent and watched Suzaku out of the corner of her eye.

And when  _Lelouch,_ the adorable little chorus boy often at the butt end of her teasing, joined the fray with an interest in Suzaku that was clearly more than simple friendship, she couldn't help but wonder how this would all turn out.

But out of all the scenarios she had imagined, Milly hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected to be handed the role of a lifetime in the Phantom's opera. The Witch was everything a singer could want in a character: strong (a characteristic so many female roles seemed to lack), alluring, with arias that made Milly's voice soar. She couldn't have asked for better.

But in her heart of hearts, hidden beneath Milly's ever present smile, it hurt just a little. Because years of... of what? Not friendship, certainly not a love affair (the very notion made Milly snort. As if she didn't have  _enough_  admirers), but they had had  _something_ , and that companionship had been wiped away, replaced so easily by something deeper,  _better_. And the opera -  _his_ opera?

It hadn't been composed for her.

* * *

Shirley took a deep breath. She was nervous, but for reasons that had nothing to do with the performance. Being on stage had never frightened her, even if now she held a larger role than she was used to. Performing as a lead character on the Avalon's stage had been her dream for as long as she could remember. Her father had been a violinist, and it was through him that her love for music was born. He had been her teacher, her inspiration for years until his untimely passing.

Inspiration was a funny thing, coming and going as it pleased without any consideration for when and where it appeared, what form it appeared in. For the longest time Shirley believed hers was gone for good, that she would never rise beyond the status of a chorus girl, that her name would only be recognized for her father's legacy.

And then she'd met Lelouch, and everything changed.

In the beginning, she hadn't liked him. He was lazy, constantly late for rehearsal, and seemed to have a perpetually apathetic outlook on life. This attitude was foreign to Shirley, for she had always strived to give each and every task one hundred percent of her effort.

But then she heard him sing for the first time. It had been long after rehearsal. Everyone else had already left for supper, but Shirley had forgotten her libretto, so she had lingered backstage. And there had been Lelouch, singing quietly, almost to himself, and it was the most beautiful thing Shirley had ever heard. It was a song of mourning, so full of anguish it had brought tears to Shirley's eyes, and for a moment she could have sworn that she heard her father's violin playing in her ear.

And then the notes faded away. Lelouch turned to her, same bored expression as ever, as if nothing had happened, and suggested they hurry to supper. But Shirley never forgot the sadness in his gaze and, for the first time, she understood Lelouch Lamperouge, for she knew better than anyone the pain of loss.

Ever since that moment, Shirley was unable to take her eyes off him. Whatever room he entered seemed automatically brighter, whenever he spoke it made her heart soar. She began to want very different things. Rather than fame on the stage and a legacy of her own, Shirley desired nothing more than for their eyes to meet. She wanted to be noticed by him. Even if her name never appeared in headlines, if he would only look at her - smile at her, acknowledge her as something more than just another member of the company - that would mean more than any riches or societal notoriety.

That became her inspiration. After every rehearsal she lingered while her peers went into the city. She practiced, dedicated herself to improving, becoming worthy of his attention. And she did improve. She started receiving larger roles. Many of them were silent, but they were credited, at least, and enabled her to explore other avenues for expressing herself outside of just her voice. Silent characters did not speak, but they were just as full of life as any of the rest - and certainly more so than the anonymous faces of the chorus where Lelouch had comfortably taken residence. The body became an instrument more than the voice, each little movement evoking emotion and telling a story in itself; very much like dancing.

_Maybe this way,_  she'd thought once,  _maybe this way he'll notice._

Instead of telling - because she'd never amassed the courage to speak of her feelings - Shirley attempted to show Lelouch how she felt. It was never anything overt as kissing him - something which Milly, whom she'd relied on as a confidante, chastised her for continually - but she would stand closer to him than an average friend, allow her eyes to linger on him in a clear display of interest.

He never noticed any of it. For a long while Shirley assumed he did notice and just was not interested, but now she knew better. She knew the oblivious responses to the outings she asked him out on, the casual way he would brush off any attempts she made at touching him, were not because he did not reciprocate her feelings, but because he was so completely blind to them in the first place. She could have shouted that she loved him at the top of her lungs and he would never have heard her.

And this was fine, Shirley convinced herself. If Lelouch didn't want a relationship, that was okay. Shirley was happy being his friend, to be able to share a little piece of him. It was better than nothing, and far more than anyone else received.

And then Suzaku Kururugi came to the Avalon.

Shirley liked Suzaku, she really did. Everyone else had been quick to judge him, skeptical about hiring an Eleven into an all-Britannian company, but Shirley had never seen him as anything less than a kind person who'd gone through some rough times. He was a hard worker, and Shirley appreciated that quality in anyone. Even when the Opera Ghost's attentions to the Avalon took a negative turn and Suzaku's name began to be whispered with more suspicion than usual, Shirley had always been quick to defend him. A person's nationality did not define them; she'd truly believed that.

But it had hurt to see the way Lelouch looked at him. The way he would brighten and smile, truly smile, whenever Suzaku was in the room. He had never looked at her like that, not once. And of course she'd noticed, even if she tried to delude herself into thinking they were nothing more than close friends. She'd crafted countless excuses for the behavior, for the unexplainable ways she would walk in on them standing too-closely together backstage, for the rumors about Lelouch spending frequent nights upstairs in the attic bedroom Suzaku kept. She'd almost convinced herself too, because it was unthinkable, they were both  _men_. Such a relationship shouldn't have been possible

Even at the masquerade ball - how Lelouch had ignored the escort that had been chosen for him and instead reached out to a masqued patron whom, from the glint of green eyes, could only have been Suzaku - she'd told herself it was only because Lelouch enjoyed causing a stir. It was no secret he disliked the management (Bartley in particular) and that had been his way of making it known. But then she had watched them dance, watched them  _kiss_ , and the look on Lelouch's face - the passion, the  _love_  - made Shirley realize that all her speculations were true. That every smile and laugh and look she ever hoped she could receive from Lelouch had already long since been reserved for another.

Another who was quite popular. It was Suzaku who had also attracted the attention of the Avalon's resident ghost. Everyone else had been expendable, but Suzaku had been especially chosen for the monstrosity that was the Phantom's opera. Shirley still did not understand. A small part of her thought maybe the other chorus girls were right to assume Suzaku was in league with the ghost, but then perhaps that was only her jealousy getting the better of her.

Whatever the reason the Ghost had for choosing Suzaku, Shirley had to be grateful to him for one thing. Not all of her dreams were lost now. Lelouch was out of her reach - then again, he always had been, even before Suzaku came to the Avalon - but she still had the stage.

And on the stage, with her voice and her body, she could still convey her feelings. Lelouch might not see them, but everyone else would, and tonight the Phantom would give her that other thing that up until then she had only been able to dream about:

Tonight she would be noticed.

* * *

If they got through this night without some girl tripping over her feet and taking the entire  _corps de ballet_ with her, Kallen reflected, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Her fellow dancers were even worse than usual, jittery with excitement and nervous energy. The dressing room was thick with perfume, giggles and gossip. Not one of them truly understood the gravity of this performance, it was just a real life ghost story, and each and every girl imagined herself as some kind of tragic heroine. Kallen had lost count on how many ballerinas she had "revived", after a sudden, spontaneous fainting spell.

"People don't faint backwards, idiot!" Kallen yelled as yet another girl suddenly brushed a hand across her forehead and gracefully crumpled to the floor. "Get up, or I'm emptying the chamber pot on you."

The girl shot up so fast she nearly tripped over her feet and fell all over again.

Just like that, a miraculous recovery, Kallen noted with a roll of her eyes.

It was depressing to think that, with a slight twist of fate, she might have been just like them. Flighty, excitable, and hopelessly silly.

Then again, maybe not. She had never been much interested in dresses and scandals. Even as a child, she had preferred to play in the streets with her brother rather than stay inside and do... whatever it was other girls did. Her mother had indulged her, encouraged her boyish spirit.

" _You'll be tied down by the responsibilities and expectations of adulthood soon enough, so for now, just do what makes you happy,"_ her mother would say, stroking Kallen's hair and smiling.

It was only much later in life that Kallen realized how strained that smile had been. As a child, she had never noticed how hard it was for her mother, raising a pair of red-haired, blue-eyed children in a sea of dark-haired, dark-eyed Japanese. Never saw the suspicious gazes, the whispered words, nor had she understood the implications of a young, unmarried woman with two children whose blood obviously held traces of Britannia.

And then war had broken out, however brief, with Naoto barely eighteen and on the frontlines. He had wanted to go, wanted to protect Japan.

Less than a month later, he was dead, and Japan died with him.

Her mother never recovered from losing him, and looking back, Kallen couldn't really blame her. A son and a home gone in one fell swoop. Who could blame her for turning to Refrain?

What Kallen could never forgive her mother for was giving her up, turning her over to a father she had never met and forcing her to adopt a name that meant nothing to her.

They had called her a niece, tragically orphaned and brought into the Stadfelt's care. It was a lie. The servants knew it, the aristocracy knew it, her father's  _wife_ knew it and saw fit to send her away practically the second Kallen stepped foot on the estate. She was sent to study ballet at the Avalon Opera house, chosen because dance would keep her busy and out of the way, hopefully to the point where she would only have to dealt with occasionally.

It was the only good thing that woman had ever done for her. Kallen hadn't  _wanted_ to like ballet, hadn't wanted to like any aspect of her new life. But then her teacher, a beautiful dark-skinned woman named Villeta, had taken her (as well as the rest of her class) to see a performance, and Kallen had been enchanted. Not by the bright dresses and dazzling sets, but by the  _movement_. The fiercely physical energy released, as if wings were attached to each dancer's feet.

In a world where sports were largely denied to her, the discovery of ballet was Kallen's only joy, something she could lose herself in, if only for a moment, and she dedicated her life to it. She became the youngest prima in Avalon history, and the new rank brought a throng of admirers, flowers in her dressing room and love notes.

Kallen scorned the attention. She had no interest in meaningless flattery or men who only had eyes for the line of her legs. She had the dance, and she needed nothing else -  _no one_ else - - to make her happy.

But that was before she met Gino Weinberg.

It hadn't been love at first sight or any other sort of storybook rubbish like that (at least, it hadn't been for  _Kallen_ ). In fact, their first meeting had left very little impression on her. She hadn't even noticed him. He was just one of the boys in the strings section (cello, first chair) she had caught peeping into the changing room. She had thrashed them soundly with a few sound kicks (honed from countless pirouettes), and slammed the door. And that was the extent of thought she had spared on the matter.

But the very next day, first chair cello was at her door again, alone this time, still bruised from where her foot had connected with his face and grinning like an idiot.

Kallen's impression of Gino was that he was a sucker for punishment. Most men backed off after Kallen kicked them, but Gino explained the very reason he liked her was  _because_  she had kicked him. How that made sense, Kallen had no idea.

It didn't matter anyway. Gino was exactly the type of guy she despised. He was the easygoing third son of the Weinberg family, a position that entailed a sizable inheritance and absolutely no responsibility. Good looks and wealth to match, he incited nearly as many flirtatious glances and airy giggles as Lamperouge did (or  _had_ , before it became clear that the tenor's interests lay in a vastly different direction).

But Gino was  _persistent_ , showing up during her private practice, sending her presents (new pointe shoes, tights, never flowers. Kallen hated seeing dead things in her dressing room.), and following her around like an adorably stupid puppy. And slowly, Gino's company and obvious infatuation started to transform from irritating to slightly amusing to almost... endearing.

Kallen had no idea how long they would have continued to circle each other, with her begrudging attraction and denial, and Gino's unadulterated adoration, if she hadn't gotten news of her mother's death. An overdose. She had been found in the servant's quarters of the Stadfelt manor (in Kallen's adoption by her "uncle", she had gone from mother to family maid), dead in her bed with a smile on her face. Reading the short, cold letter detailing her mother's passing, something in Kallen had snapped, and she had sought comfort in Gino's arms.

People tended to do stupid things in grief. Kallen knew that. Gino had reminded her repeatedly, but this time it was  _Kallen_  who was the persistent one, pressing kisses to his lips and his throat, running her hands through his hair and popping buttons.

(Because she hadn't wanted to be alone, not that night, and just because something was stupid didn't make it  _wrong_ ).

It wouldn't be the last night she spent with Gino in her bed. Kallen told herself it was stress relief, a simple desire for companionship. She was keeping her head, using contraception (not even when she was miserable with her mother's death did she make  _that_ oversight), and she was still devoted to her career.

But in one moment, as Gino caressed her and she faintly wondered if this was what his cello felt like when he played it, he leaned in and whispered three words that shattered her fragile illusion. And Kallen balked, running from his gentle, sincere gaze. Because she couldn't give him an answer,  _refused_ to. Love had ruined her mother, and Kallen would not give up her independence, her _life_  for a man.

But now that she stood here, about to put that same life into a capricious ghost's hands, Kallen realized all her excuses and rationalizations were built because she had been afraid. Afraid of getting hurt like her mother had been, who in turn had hurt her, afraid that Gino would disappear just like everyone else who had made the mistake of loving her.

But there were so many things to fear in this world. Death and destruction could come any minute. It was no reason to deprive herself of happiness, and if this was going to be her last dance, she wasn't going to let Gino go without ever knowing how she felt.

She left the  _corps de ballet_  with a parting glare, and headed into the orchestra pit. He would be busy, the opening act was approaching, he wouldn't be able to see her-

"Looking for someone?"

And there he was, holding his cello case and smiling like he always did.

Kallen kissed his smile away, not caring who saw, not caring about the loud clunk his case made when he dropped it in favor of her waist or that she was in costume.

"If we make it through this alive," Kallen breathed into Gino's ear, "then yes, I will marry you."

* * *

A good show was like a good machine, well maintained, with all parts in order and working to full capacity. Lloyd understood that better than anyone, which is why he made such a good director despite his lack of experience and general interest in the subject.

Well, that wasn't quite true. It wasn't as if he was  _uninterested_ in opera, it was that he was interested for vastly different reasons than most. Music overall, he could care less about, but the _science_ , the fact that it could evoke mass emotional response from human beings from a few differently pitched tones was fascinating to him.

So fascinating, that he diverted from his true love of mechanical engineering (steam power in particular appeared to be in vogue right now), to experiment in musical theory. He wanted to delve inside of it and find out its secrets, how music worked. There must be a formula. Everything had a formula.

Cecile had been convinced that he had gone insane (or more insane, as the case may be), but she had followed him anyway, for Lloyd had believed in her ability when no one else had thought that the realm of science was a place for a woman. And it wasn't as if he had abandoned his work entirely. He had his projects, the theatre proving to be a delightful outlet for his creative energy. True, his works were mostly used to provide special effects during the performances when he could have been discovering new, world altering technological innovations, but Lloyd had never much cared about the end result. It was the process of invention that mattered to him, not how the creation was used.

"Shouldn't you be out going through some last few points with the performers?" Cecile asked.

Lloyd waved his hand dismissively. "You do it. This is more important."

Cecile rolled her eyes. "Lloyd, the pulley is fine. You've checked and rechecked it."

"And now I'm checking it again," Lloyd retorted. "Those idiot stagehands better not mess up the machinery. The joints may weaken if they let their grip slack."

"Plus Kururugi would fall," Cecile pointed out dryly.

"Oh, yes, Kururugi too," Lloyd amended. "It would be a shame if such an excellent part was broken. He never did give me an answer about becoming a test subject. I wonder-"

"-if you were dropped at birth?" Cecile finished for him. "I wonder that as well."

Lloyd grinned. "I suppose this is when I ask you why you're angry with me?"

"I'm not  _angry_ at you," Cecile insisted, irritable tone a direct contradiction to her claim. "I'm used to your blatant insensitivity by now. I just wish you would take this threat a bit more seriously."

"I  _am_  taking this seriously," Lloyd replied. "I take all of my experiments seriously."

Cecile sighed. "We're not in the lab anymore, Lloyd. This isn't an experiment."

Lloyd laughed. "Of course it is! Have you read the score, seen the cast? You add our resident ghost, and we have all the ingredients for a chemical reaction! This opera is going to  _explode_!"

C.C. smiled as the house lights began to dim, watching from up in the rafters as the performers took their places on stage. "Who would have thought, Marianne?" she mused, eyes alight with a sad sort of amusement. "Your son has gotten himself into quite the predicament."

Noises sounded from the orchestra pit - the musicians making final adjustments to the tuning of their instruments. C.C. frowned and tilted her head to the side. "Well I don't see what you want me to do about it."

Another beat and then she chuckled, gaze sliding to the stage right wings where Suzaku Kururugi, stagehand turned performer, was pacing fretfully in anticipation of curtain-up. Her heart went out to the boy a bit; he really had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. They all thought it would be so simple: set a trap and destroy the Phantom. They hadn't a clue, and poor Suzaku, all he'd wanted was a companion to ease his loneliness. C.C. knew that feeling, it had almost consumed her after her mistress's death. No one wanted to be alone.

"Yes," she agreed. "There really is only one person who can do anything about it. The question is, will he want to once he finally learns the truth?"

Suzaku's desperation for companionship just happened to lead him into something he did not understand. His connection to Lelouch only made the matter more complicated. And C.C. had watched the players circle, Lelouch's love, Zero's obsession, and Suzaku's hopeless attraction to them both, knowing that they would crash and unable to stop their descent. But nothing could be done about the past. Choices had been made and alliances formed; all they could do now was wait for the Requiem to play out.

"How many times must I make you the same promise?" she snapped, a bit irritable over the idea of having to swear her loyalty again. "You know I won't let anything happen to him."

There was a pause, and C.C. scowled.

"Must you throw that in my face? I will not apologize again," C.C. said. But the frustration was leaving her almost as soon as it came, a heaviness replacing it in her heart. It was her own grief over the loss of her mistress that made her slow to find Lelouch after the attack. If truth be told, his condition was partly her fault.

She sighed. "I suppose that doesn't mean very much now, after everything. We can point fingers all we wish, but the fact remains that his fate is out of our hands."

Suzaku had never hated Zero any more than he did in this moment, sitting backstage in partial costume. In little more than an hour, he would be onstage, and the stage fright combined with the added pressure of knowing that no matter how the night turned out, he would be losing something precious, made him feel lightheaded and faintly nauseous. Lelouch called it butterflies in the stomach. Suzaku likened it more to a herd of rampaging elephants.

Thank God he wasn't in the first scene.

"It's going to be all right," Lelouch assured him. "You're going to be great out there. Just stay calm and breathe."

"I don't want to do this," Suzaku admitted, the same confession he had made just last night but for vastly different reasons. "It scares me." Paralyzing heights he could handle, half a dozen thugs twice his size and out for blood, no problem, but  _this_...

"I know, but I'll be with you in every scene," Lelouch reminded him. "I won't let you falter, and after the final curtain, we'll go far away, and never have to see this godforsaken place again."

Suzaku smiled ironically. "I think I might have heard that before."

Lelouch waved a hand at him. "This time we'll make it," he promised, and he sounded so convinced it made Suzaku wish he believed it. "Everything is in place, the doors are barred, the soldiers ready at the Prince's signal. We'll get him this time. His reign will end."

Suzaku forced a smile, certain that Lelouch had intended his words to be reassuring. In reality they made him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He was trying not to think about the aftermath, not to think about what horrors might await them in the Phantom's opera.

Most of all, Suzaku tried not to think about the depth of his betrayal, even if it could be argued that Zero had betrayed him first. Suzaku hoped Zero would hate him, curse him and despise his name, because that was far easier to stomach than the idea of making Zero sad,  _lonely_...

Lelouch seemed to read Suzaku's expression, for he reached out to squeeze Suzaku's hand. "I know that I seem cold to you, but don't think for a moment that I don't care. I just want you to be safe, Suzaku."

Throwing him into the line of fire may have not been the best way to go about that, Suzaku couldn't help but think. But he knew Lelouch  _was_ being sincere in his own way, so Suzaku squeezed his hand back. "I know. I'm sorry."

"We'll look back on this, years from now, and it will all be merely a bad memory. Just one tiny moment in the whirlwind of our time on this mortal coil," Lelouch said.

Suzaku rolled his eyes. "You better not start waxing poetic about the fleetingness of life."

"I will restrain myself," Lelouch promised.

Suzaku sighed. "I better report to the costume mistresses. They want to put in some last touches to my costume." The clear displeasure on Suzaku's face made Lelouch laugh.

"Well, good luck. I know they can be a bit... overly zealous."

"That's one way to put it," Suzaku answered, shuddering slightly at the memory of his first fitting, an unfortunate experience involving wandering hands and measuring tape.

But before Suzaku could leave Lelouch for his personal horror, Lelouch grabbed his arm.

"When you're onstage, if there's ever a moment where it becomes too much, just think of France, and the chaotic, infuriating, incredible future you and I are going to have together."

For the first time, Suzaku's smile was entirely genuine. "I will." And he pressed his lips to Lelouch's, just to drive the point home. It was meant to be a chaste parting kiss, but... well, they had both been so busy lately, so distant, it had been awhile since they had last been...  _intimate_. Quickly, Lelouch's tongue was introduced into the equation, and Suzaku was tangling his fingers into Lelouch's hair, even though in the back of his mind he knew that they didn't have  _time_ for this...

"Lulu-Oh!"

The couple sprang apart, and Suzaku very much would have liked to flee but Lelouch kept him firmly in place. Normally any of Lelouch' attempts would not have been that effective, but Suzaku was a bit... debilitated right now, and the tight pants he was wearing only made it worse.

"Did you want something, Shirley?" Lelouch asked calmly (well, as calmly as one could be with sex tousled hair and flushed cheeks).

"Oh, uh... well I..." It looked like she wanted to say something important, if the deep breath she took in and the way she stood up a little straighter were any indication. But then she shook her head, deciding against whatever it might have been. Her shoulders slumped a bit. "We're in the first scene together. If we don't go on soon, we're going to miss our cue, Lul - I mean, Lelouch," she stuttered, eyes downcast, her orange hair and red face making it seem like someone had set her head on fire. She looked absolutely miserable, and Suzaku's heart went out to her a little.

"I've been waiting," Shirley added in a small voice.

Lelouch nodded. "Of course. It was very inconsiderate, letting you wait on me like that. I'm sorry, Shirley."

For more reasons than one, Suzaku suspected.

"I'll see you later," Lelouch told Suzaku, who had fortunately calmed down by then.

"Yeah," Suzaku agreed, thankful Lelouch left it at that, without trying for a parting kiss or some other affectionate touch. They had rubbed their relationship in poor Shirley's face enough.

Lelouch and Shirley made their way onstage, but before Suzaku left on his own path, he allowed himself a moment to watch the curtain rise and the lights come alive.

"Let the audience in," Suzaku whispered. "Let his opera begin."


	11. Stand and Watch it Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters (actually this whole last stretch of the story is my favorite)! Credit to most of the lyrics goes to Lawli, who had a far better head for musicality than I (though that's not saying much). I wrote a few verses, and of course the rest belongs to Andrew Lloyd Weber himself.

_Zero Requiem:_

A thunderous applause followed the final notes of the overture, many of the audience already smiling in the excitement of seeing a new work of art. Typically the Avalon rotated performing the same classics over and over, and while classics were considered such for a reason it was refreshing to watch something new. Several among the audience frowned in obvious distaste of the cacophonous arrangement of the notes, but most looked more than willing to give the opera a chance.

Pleased or not, the audience fell silent as the grand drape fluttered and then was pulled open, revealing the lavish drawing room befitting of a royal palace. Center stage a desk was placed, behind which leading tenor Lelouch Lamperouge stood, looking handsome but distressed in neatly pressed white robes. On the other side of the room, seated upon pillows before a painted window, was a relative newcomer to the Avalon's main stage. Many of the patrons had to consult their programme to recall her name - Shirley Fenette, or Lottie, as her character would be called. She watched the painted clouds as Lelouch (the new Emperor, Erik) paced fretfully at the desk, whistling softly under her breath to mimic the birdsong outside. She appeared unaware of the Emperor's torment.

" _My mind thinks of everything and nothing,_ " the emperor declared to the audience suddenly, bringing a hand to his temples in a show of exhaustion.

" _At war within myself,_

_what is real and what is fiction_

_\- who can say?_

_Another day,_

_Another duty to be done."_

"My lord!" An importantly dressed man entered the stage, striding over to the Emperor and explaining several matters which required his attention. The Emperor shook his head, trying to wave the man away. "But my lord," the man persisted, "the Requiem is of utmost importance. The kingdom is restless for news of your father's burial."

"He'll get what he deserves," the Emperor insisted, voice scathing. "Now leave us."

Reluctantly the other man did so, and once again it was only the Emperor and Lottie. The Emperor looked over at her, sighed, and then took a seat at his desk, idly perusing the documents the other man left behind.

" _I am a king, or so I'm meant to be._

_A decision that I've made_

_to save us both,_

_to change the world the way she wants._

_I am a king, or so I try to be,_

_when the guilt's not in the way._

_Yes, only then_

_my mind can only then be clear."_

A lonely ballad, with an angry undertone. The Emperor confided in the audience how simple it had been to slip poison into his father's drink - how the fool had been dead in a matter of seconds, never expecting his powerless son, the eleventh heir to the throne, to ever be behind such a scheme - and claim the throne for himself. But ever since then, he had been plagued with images of whom he believed to be his dead father - a figure swathed in black, following him, appearing in his dreams and haunting him over what he'd done.

" _Can this Phantom in my mind_

_be what is true,_

_or will I find_

_a false idol in my bed,_

_the lover's hands still dripping red?_

_Oh darkness, darkness..."_

Lottie - the youngest princess and Erik's blood sister - stood from the cushions, her expression one of innocent joy as she tilted her head toward the window.

" _A song so sweet,_ " she sang in an airy voice, turning to the light as the Emperor came to stand behind her. She reached out to him and he grasped her small fingers, a truly tortured look upon his face.

" _And here there is this light,_

_this joy, my purpose_

_\- my whole heart, if only she could be._

_I pray she cannot see_

_my darkness growing."_

Erik turned away from her then, to the small patch of stage unlit by Lottie's radiance.

" _So light,"_  Lottie sighed happily.

" _Consuming,_ " lamented the emperor.

" _So beautiful._ "

They turned toward each other in that moment, Erik still obviously pulling away and becoming lost in thought as his dear sister attempted again to reach out to him. They sang in unison, a rich tenor harmonizing with a pure lyrical soprano.

" _How can it be?" "Don't you agree?"_

Lottie smiled, coaxed her brother from the work that always took him away from her.  _"It's beautiful,"_  she sang, and the Emperor nodded his agreement.

"It is."

" _So very beautiful."_

Again a nod. "You are."

Lottie glanced to the window again, to the accompaniment of a birdsong. " _Every note, every word."_

He watched her for a moment before his expression clouded over once more. Never again could he share his sister's rose-tinted view of the world. Too much had changed since his coronation, since he saw the red that stained his hands. Innocence had been lost long ago, but.. Oh, how he wished he could join in Lottie's simple enjoyment, wished he could be so innocently delighted by sunshine and birds whistling their morning song.

" _How I wish I could shed this darkness_

_And be all of me hers_

_This little flame, this light surrounds me_

_a song waiting to be heard_

_The world could change with just her voice_

_The world she sees, had I the choice_

_I'd bend the world to suit her whim_

_my little Lottie."_

The rest of the scene passed, the Emperor giving a brief monologue about the trials of ruling a kingdom, how it was not as he imagined it in his boyhood and how he could now feel a tiny shred of respect for the previous emperor for not cracking under all the pressures.

" _Though I suppose, while king he was,_

_a father he never seemed to me."_

Lottie called out to him in the midst of his musings, asking him to take a stroll with her in the gardens. At first Erik considered it, then turned the invitation down, claiming there was too much work to be done, that he could no longer partake in Lottie's childish whims. He loved her, but his work must take priority.

With that he exited the stage, cape flowing behind him. Polite applause followed.

Lottie sighed, gazing back out the window. The stage was quiet for a moment and then, after a melancholy opening measure from the piano, she began to sing of how she remembered her childhood. She and her brother were always inseparable, he always made the time for her.

" _But lately there's a change_

_I cannot place._

_He is king,_

_I'm still a silly little girl._

_Growing up without me._

_Leaving me behind._

_Is it selfish that I wish it were not so?_

_Once I had his heart_

_And now I fear there is another,_

_Someone else_

_Residing in that place which had been mine._

_I'll fold a thousand paper cranes_

_And pray_

_for things to be just as they used to be_

_For him to love me_

_in the way he did before_

_I'll fold a thousand paper cranes_

_And think of him,_

_And, oh, of us_

_And all that happiness I wish could still be ours."_

As the music faded behind her the audience applauded. Lottie acknowledged their approval with a smile before the curtain swung closed, signaling the end of the scene.

The scenes passed, the Black Knight being introduced and gradually becoming more of the Emperor's focus. Lottie became someone pushed aside more and more frequently as Erik sought privacy with his darkness. The nature of their relationship was not entirely clear. To the audience, it was uncertain if the Black Knight was really there at all, or if he was merely a product of the Emperor's imagination - a metaphor for how deeply he was losing himself. Whatever the case, the Emperor was enthralled by the spectre, following the Black Knight's every movement, obsessing over what its appearance signified and what it wanted of him.

At the end of the first act, the Emperor's eldest brother was unveiled as an antagonist, plotting behind the Emperor's back to have him assassinated. This revelation threw the Emperor into a rage, and he sang bitterly about the duality of a man's heart.

" _I am myself no exception._

_My heart remains in two._

_This darkness, on inspection,_

_is not really something new._

_But can I trust it?_

_Put my faith so blindly in this thing_

_I know so little of._

_Can I trust it?_

_Men have died from such a thing_

_as misplaced trust."_

As if in answer to the Emperor's questions and insecurities, the Black Knight approached him and made a first attempt at physical contact with him. It was nothing more than a hand against the Emperor's chin to draw his focus, but the entire audience trembled as the Emperor and Black Knight truly saw each other for the first time.

For several beats, the only sound was of the Emperor's ragged breathing. Then he reached up, clutching desperately at the Black Knight's cloak.

"Yes."

A thundering from the piano followed the Emperor's declaration.

" _Yes you are my own._

_My only Darkness, only soul._

_I can deny you nothing_

_now I see you as you are."_

Laughter echoed through the air. Deep, menacing laughter that brought a shiver up the spines of many audience members (some of the performers cringed as well, for it was not dissimilar to another laugh that had rang out not so long ago). The Black Knight gently pulled away from the boy (for it  _was_  a boy standing there, a child, lost and afraid).

"Don't leave!" the Emperor begged. " _Please, do not leave me this way."_

More laughter, and the Black Knight was gone.

" _What do you want from me?"_  Even in song, the Emperor's voice was desperate. And then it cracked, as perhaps did a first shard of the Emperor's sanity. He spoke the words next, sounding shaken. "What do you want from me?"

Silence was his only answer, and he cradled his head in his hands, his shoulders wrought with anguished sobbing.

Unseen to him, little Lottie stepped out from the cloak of darkness, wide, terrified eyes evident that she had witnessed the entire exchange.

"He's mad," she whispered as her own eyes filled with tears.

The Emperor stood in his study, pouring over maps and looking about ready to tear his hair out. His eyes were hooded with sleep deprivation, his skin sallow and sick. The Empire was far too big, he informed the audience. A soul sucking monster that devoured everything in its path, and it was not happy with its new ruler. It did not matter that his intentions were good, that he had the people's interests at heart, and he related his fears that power was making him cruel.

" _I hated my father,_

_Cold and callous._

_Never a kind word,_

_No compassion anywhere._

_But is that the fate of a ruler?_

_The curse of a king?_

_For even as I curse his name,_

_I find myself just like him_

" _The power of the king will isolate you,_ " a voice replied.

" _A different providence,_

_A different time,_

_A different life._

_That is our contract._

_You agreed."_

She appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sitting comfortably on his desk, practically sprawled among the papers (very unladylike, the more catty patrons whispered), grin feral like a cat's. The Witch.

Erik growled, sweeping his arm over the maps, the reports of revolts and death counts.  _"I never agreed to this!"_

The Witch's face remained impassive, almost bored.

" _Come now,_

_You are a child,_

_But not a fool._

_The path to peace is long,_

_And paved in blood._

_You must know."_

The Emperor laughed bitterly.

" _I knew without knowing._

_It's easy to speak of sacrifice._

_Easy from a distance,_

_Without the poor lambs screaming,_

_Haunting me at night._

_If I had not taken this curse,_

_This contract-"_

"You would have died with your mother," the woman retorted shortly. "And neither of us would get what we want."

" _And what do you want?"_ Erik demanded.

" _You came to me that night._

_That night drenched in blood._

_We made a deal,_

_A Devil's pact._

_You helped me rise,_

_Gave me power to rule._

_But everything has a price._

_Nothing comes without toil._

_What is it you desire?"_

" _You will know when it is right, no sooner,"_ the Witch replied.

" _You should worry about yourself._

_I have heard whispers,_

_Treacherous words._

_They say you scream at nothing,_

_Jumping at shadows_

_What are you afraid of?_ "

The Emperor's entire demeanor changed as he caved in on himself, the brief spirit he had shown crumpling with weariness. "Is he your doing?" he asked, as if it took far too much energy to force the words into song.

The woman tilted her head curiously. " _Who?_ "

" _The man in the mask!"_ the Emperor cried, the musical equivalent to a yell.

" _He hides in the shadows,_

_In my dreams,_

_In my mind._

_My tormentor, my ghost._

_Haunting me like a black knight_

_Seeking my head._

_That horrid face,_

_So empty, emotionless._

_And yet..."_

And the Emperor's rant became more subdued here, evening out into mournful notes. " _And yet in that face, all the sadness of the world_."

The Witch sighed.

" _He is not mine, boy._

_What demons visit are your own."_

She stood, brushing invisible dust off her skirt.

" _Now, I shall depart._

_Return to your war games, little king._

_But forget not our promise."_

As miraculously as she appeared, the Witch disappeared, and the Emperor chuckled.

" _Why does everyone leave me?"_

* * *

The stage was dark, and although the scene was set as the interior of the palace it was clear through the dim lighting that this meeting was of a secretive nature. A small group of people gathered in the room, among them Lottie, the former emperor's eldest son Raoul, and several lesser characters who had been vaguely introduced in earlier scenes as clearly having an issue with the direction their country was headed under its new dictator.

Two of the men argued about the fast-approaching winter season, and the outbreak of plague in the bordering cities.

"It's only a matter of time before it reaches us. And with a spoiled child on the throne, what hope do we have?"

"It is a curse. Erik is unfit to be emperor, and God is punishing the kingdom for his wrongdoings!"

"Please," Lottie protested, timidly stepping between the two men. They immediately stopped and looked at her, surprised. "Our God is not so vengeful. But I must agree." She lowered her voice. "The crown does not suit him, and I fear for what will become of him and our country both, should he continue like this."

" _Princess, do you suggest-"_ The two men began excitedly, but Lottie cut them off, holding up a hand.

" _I suggest nothing._

_These opinions of mine_

_are nothing more._

_Only a girl_

_who loves her brother._

_Only a girl_

_who loves her home._

_Only a heart_

_that breaks to see them so."_

Realizing the princess would not be supportive of the idea of a coup, the men turned instead to Raoul. Raoul met their gazes evenly, and it seemed as if a heavy weight settled on his shoulders.

" _My friends_ ," he sang, voice a smooth baritone.

" _A plague is upon us._

_A poison corrodes us,_

_and we have let it spread._

_My brother_

_That fiend, our emperor -_

_How cruel of us to wish_

_that he were dead._

_The fate that claimed his mother_

_should have taken him as well._

_He squanders, lies, and pilfers_

_while his people rot in hell._

_This gratuitous existence_

_he will never atone._

_The people, they grow restless_

_while he sits upon the throne._

_But what can be done?"_

" _Earn it he did not,"_  one of the men agreed.

Raoul took the opportunity to point out the problem none of them seemed to realize.

" _But the crown belongs to him._

_Who am I to challenge_

_my sovereign next of kin?"_

" _Challenge,"_  Lottie entered the conversation again.

" _Oh please no._

_My brother, he does suffer."_

" _You say suffer?"_  Raoul sounded interested.

Lottie nodded.  _"Yes I do._

_I've seen_

_the red around his eyes,_

_his skin so sickly white,_

_and the worst..."_

"The worst?"

" _The phantom who comes to him at night."_

Lottie's words were met with derisive laughter.

"A phantom!" One of the men scoffed, obviously thinking the princess to be making up stories.

Her face flushed with embarrassment, and imploringly she turned to meet the prince's gaze.

" _I beg you not to laugh, I do.  
Every word of this I mean."_

" _But little Lottie, is it true?_

_Are you sure you do not dream?"_

" _I wish I did!"_

Lottie turned away from Raoul, crossing her arms over her chest.

" _More than anything_

_I wish it were not true."_

" _Tell me then."_ Raoul laid a hand on Lottie's arm, guiding her to his side. "We mean to help him," he promised.

Lottie nodded.

" _I do not want him used._

_This demon - or this sickness_

_turned against him."_

" _You have my word._

_Our brother will be safe."_

After another moment of hesitation, Lottie explained how she had witnessed her brother talking to himself. Speaking to an invisible spectre - reaching out to touch it, begging it not to leave his side.

" _It frightens me,"_ she sang.

 _"Don't be frightened."_  Raoul's voice was deep, soothing, and seemed to lull Lottie into a temporary comfort. He guided her to a sofa at the far side of the room and sat her down gently before returning to where the group of men were still huddled together, recounting Lottie's tale.

" _It is as she says,"_  the prince hissed to them, and it was clear Lottie was not meant to overhear.

" _A sickness of the mind._

_He's unfit for the throne,_

_a man of his kind."_

" _But what can be done?"_ One of the men wondered, and the others joined him enthusiastically.

" _Oh prince, tell us!"_

The music picked up, and the prince and gathered men spoke on top of one another, their voices harmonious.

Raoul sighed.  _"What can be done, indeed?"_

" _My prince, do tell us!"_

" _What am I to do?" "We will follow you!"_

" _What am I to do?" "Our loyalty we pledge to you!"_

The prince broke away from them, looking dismayed as he realized what it was they wanted of him. His eyes turned to the audience, anguished.

" _Can peace truly be won_

_by the death of another?_

_Is it what the people want,_

_for me to kill my brother?_

_Do I stain my hands_

_to bring about the future._

_Can I stain these hands red_

_and yet live to see that future?_

_Oh, dear brother,_

_please forgive the sinful thoughts_

_within my mind._

_But it must be done."_

His eyes hardened, as if he were gazing through a window and could see the suffering of his people beyond.

" _God save my soul,_

_it must be done,_

_we cannot have another one!_

_Another base and selfish man_

_seizing control of our homeland._

_I will challenge him_

_I will show him his wrongs_

_and he will pay._

_I vow upon this day,_

_we will right this wrong!"_

The audience burst into enthusiastic applause, which drowned out the sound of a few hastily made plans involving a masquerade ball. No great detail was given so as not to spoil the surprise for the audience, and once they were finished Raoul adjourned the meeting - but only after swearing all present to an oath of silence.

Once they had dispersed from the stage, the lighting changed subtly. The emperor Erik stepped out from hiding, his expression one of disbelief as he studied the spot where Lottie had been. When he sang, his voice was made heavy by heartbreak.

" _I gave you the future_

_Made the dream you sung take wing_

_and now, how you repay me,_

_plot against me, you betray me."_

Erik took a moment, his mind working rapidly as the music swelled to a crescendo around him. His eyes were narrowed hatefully, any sign of the love he had felt for Lottie distinguished in light of her betrayal. The light had been snuffed out, and now the emperor fully embraced his darkness. The Black Knight loomed behind him, casting an ominous shadow across the stage as his influence grew and engulfed everything in its path.

" _You will curse the day you did not do_

_all your emperor asked of you!"_

* * *

The lights went dark as the scenery was rearranged, and when the stage was illuminated once again the audience were treated to a grand ballroom filled with colorful masks and intricate costumes. Couples danced merrily across the set.

" _Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade!_

_Masquerade!_

_Hide your face_

_so the world will never find you!"_

But not everyone was feeling the merriment of the evening. A group of sour faced men stood in the corner, their whispers spoken clearly through the music, and the fact that they were the only ones not singing set them apart from the crowd.

"Such a disgrace, such decadence bought on the backs of the starving populace."

"The Emperor spares no expense when it comes to his own pleasure."

" _Masquerade!_

_Every face a different shade!_

_Masquerade!_

_Look around,_

_There's another mask behind you."_

A trumpet sounded, and everyone immediately paused in their merrymaking, dropping into a bow as the emperor entered the room, clad in white with a golden mask.

Erik smiled shifted his gaze towards the set of would-be conspirators before waving his arm. "Continue."

At his command, the crowd returned to their dance.

Cowed by a single glance, the group of "revolutionaries" shifted into the crowd, and Erik chuckled. He had heard every word, as his next lines made clear. The men, he informed the audience, had made several mistakes in their treasonous mutterings. The Masquerade dance had not been his idea, it was an annual tradition to celebrate the crushing of a misguided revolution against the Empire by a colony in the West. This ball had been in the works for months, especially since it had been one hundred years since then, making this a sort of Centennial. In fact, most of the planning had taken place before Erik had even come into power.

" _There is no pleasing_

_these poor fools._

_I hold a ball,_

_I am selfish,_

_a hedonist who_

_views the people as tools._

_But if I do not agree_

_with this revelry,_

_then I deny tradition,_

_am a disgrace to my nation."_

Erik laughed again, spreading his arms out as people danced around him, and once again in the corner, the same group of men who had been whispering so vehemently were now gorging themselves at the banquet table.

" _Despicable hypocrites,_

_everyone here._

_They lament for the people,_

_but still they fill their stomachs._

_Dance as if the splendor will never fade._

_What a masquerade!"_

At his cue, the crowd took up singing again.

" _Flash of mauve_

_Splash of puce_

_Fool and king_

_Ghoul and goose_

_Green and black_

_Queen and priest_

_Trace of rouge_

_Face of beast"_

Lottie, dressed in a white gown trimmed in feathers complete with a white mask designed to look like a crane, came escorted by Raoul.

" _Faces!_

_Take your turn, take a ride_

_On the merry-go-round,_

_in an inhuman race!"_

With a bright smile, she parted from Raoul and eagerly approached her other brother.

"Dance with me?" she asked sweetly.

" _Eye of gold_

_True is false_

_Who is who?_

_Curl of lip_

_Swirl of gown_

_Ace of hearts_

_Face of clown."_

"Of course," Erik agreed graciously, accepting Lottie's hand and leading her to the dance floor.

" _Faces!_

_Drink it in, drink it up!_

_Till you've drowned_

_in the light,_

_in the sound._

_But who can name the face?"_

Brother and sister twirled across the stage, and at first they were stiff and cold, both too hidden beneath masks and deception: Lottie in her worry for her brother's sanity, and Erik in his knowledge of her albeit unintentional, but still very real treachery.

" _Masquerade!_

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds_

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill,_

_let the spectacle astound you!"_

But the music played on, and gradually the dance smoothed out, became gentler as both allowed themselves to forget their troubles, if only for a moment, and just allow themselves this moment of happiness.

" _Masquerade!_

_Burning glances, turning heads._

_Masquerade!_

_Stop and stare at_

_the sea of smiles around you."_

A flash of black cape, a very familiar mask, appeared at the edge of the stage before melding into the crowd.

Erik stopped in his tracks, peering out with wide eyes.

Lottie frowned. "Is there something wrong?"

"I... I saw a mask," Erik murmured. "I distinctly saw a mask."

Lottie giggled. "Of course. The ballroom is full of masks!"

Erik chuckled with her. "Yes, I suppose it is. I-There!"

Again, the mask, the Black Knight, closer now but still out of reach.

" _Masquerade!_

 _Seething shadows breathing lies_."

Erik rushed towards the apparition, ignoring Lottie's distressed calls.

" _Masquerade!_

_You can fool any friend who ever knew you."_

And then, with a twirl of his cape, the Black Knight was gone. But Erik wasn't about to give up now. Not when he could hear his rumbling laughter echoing through the hall. He looked around wildly.

There he was again, weaving through the couples as they danced on, oblivious.

" _Masquerade!_

_Leering satyrs, peering eyes._

_Masquerade!_

_Run and hide, but a face_

_will still pursue you."_

The Black Knight's laughter rang through the hall, mixing with the orchestra music, which was accelerating to match the Emperor's urgency as he chased his personal ghost across the stage, struggling to get through throngs of people, some attempting to stop and chat, others trying to engage him in dance. The Knight, however, slipped through effortlessly, appearing and reappearing, jumping over chairs and tables. It almost seemed as if he was flying. He would occasionally allow Erik to get close, before slipping away, mere inches from the Emperor's grasp.

Finally, as the orchestra music reached its climax, Erik found himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, the Black Knight before him, not running or hiding. He had his arm outstretched, as if silently asking the Emperor to dance.

Erik reached out, his hand hovering right above the Black Knight's, and the figure bowed, taking the hand and pressing a light kiss to the back (or what would have been a kiss if the Knight had possessed a proper mouth). And then they danced, lightly circling around each other, oblivious to anything outside their temporary world.

"You are not real," Erik breathed.

The Black Knight laughed, softer now, gentler.

"And yet," Erik mused, "and yet, sometimes I think you are the only thing that is real."

The Black Knight twirled Erik lightly, pushing him forward-

-and into Lottie's waiting arms.

"I've been looking for you, brother!" Lottie cried. "What have you been doing?"

Erik glanced back, unsurprised to see that the Black Knight had disappeared without a trace.

"Dancing," he replied, expression dazed. "I've been dancing."

" _Masquerade!_

_Take your fill, let the_

_spectacle astound you."_

* * *

Backstage was a place of ordered, silent chaos during intermission. Stagehands rushed to and fro, bringing forth set pieces for the next act and removing properties that would no longer be used by the performers. Several dancers were being checked over by costume mistresses, who complained about the delicacy of fabric and lamented over if the costumes were even salvageable.

Up in the rafters, Rivalz and the other scene shifters lowered a new backdrop for the opening scene of the next act. Suzaku yearned to be among them. His costume, a flowing black material, was made to be breathable; but after so long wearing it he felt uncomfortably constricted, as if he hadn't truly breathed for an hour and a half.

With a quiet sigh, Suzaku peeled off his mask, freeing his sweaty curls from the from the claustrophobic material. The Black Knight was not allowed to have any visible human features, so the mask was designed to cover his entire head, save for some nose holes to ensure that he didn't actually suffocate. Even his eye sockets were filmed over with a light gauze that was just sheer enough for Suzaku to see through, although the way the material muted colors was a bit disconcerting. It was a relief to have the opportunity to remove the mask and gulp down a glass of water, and even more so to slip away from the bustle and into a familiar dressing room.

The walls had been stripped of the portraits and relics that had once belonged to Clovis, and without them the room seemed strangely cold, empty. Lelouch sat at the vanity, studying his reflection intently, and wearing little more than his undergarments. Suzaku had memorized every curve of Lelouch's body, but still found himself embarrassed. He saw Lelouch smile just before he politely averted his gaze, and dimly he wondered if he should have knocked before entering.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," Lelouch said quickly. "Are you? You're doing very well."

Suzaku shook his head. "You were behaving strangely in the last scene. You changed some of your blocking." The Emperor was supposed to be frantic in his attempts to catch the Knight, literally chasing him across the stage, but Lelouch had portrayed a desperation that Suzaku had never seen in rehearsal, even knocking a few of the dancers over to reach him, as if Suzaku truly was an object of deepest desire that remained just out of reach.

"Did I?" Lelouch shrugged and brushed it off. "I suppose I was caught up in the moment."

Maybe that was all it was. The energy of a live audience almost distracted Suzaku from remembering his purpose on stage, so he could imagine it affected even seasoned performers. Thankfully the dancers had quickly recovered from their sudden tumble. Still, such behavior was unlike Lelouch. Even if the choreography hadn't suffered, the dancers could have been injured, and their costumes were damaged as a result of the sudden change in blocking. He was surprised Lelouch would so casually dismiss that.

"Have you seen him at all?"

Suzaku blinked, looked back up at Lelouch. "Who?"

Lelouch's expression was unreadable when he answered. "Zero." He picked up an ruby ring from the marble vanity top, turning it over in his hand. The color reflected in his eyes as he held it up, mocking somehow as Suzaku met his gaze in the mirror.

A niggling fear chased shivers down his spine. Suzaku swallowed thickly, wondering why all of the sudden he felt so very nervous. The Black Knight's costume was even more suffocating than usual, and he found it hard to take a deep breath. "No," he said, when he finally found his voice again. "There's been nothing."

Lelouch closed the ring tightly around his fingers, and when he opened them again Suzaku saw it was not a ruby at all, but a deep amethyst stone trapped tightly within the prongs. "I'd wondered about Schneizel's plan. If the Phantom knows everything, surely he knows when he's being set up?"

"I'd worried about that as well." But there had been no time to voice that fear. Everyone was so fueled by the idea of ridding the Avalon of its spectral menace once and for all that any questioning was met with snide dismissals. The plan would work; Prince Schneizel had derived it, and so it would work.

But Zero was smart. Others might not believe it, but Suzaku knew it to be true. How else could he have survived so long? "I honestly don't think he'll show up."

"No." Lelouch was smiling again; that odd, knowing smile. "He will. So long as you're on that stage, he's bound to make an appearance. But I think he'll be prepared, when he does."

"How do you mean?"

"Well..." Lelouch made a show of thinking it over, touching a finger to his lips and lifting his gaze skyward. "If I were Zero, I would laugh at this attempt to seal my fate. I would have a plan of my own. I would know exit strategies, and hostages I could take if anyone gave me trouble."

One word had Suzaku's blood running cold. "Hostages?"

Lelouch gestured grandly with a sweep of his arm. "This whole theatre is his to use as he wishes. Each and every one of us is a pawn to be manipulated."

He met Suzaku's gaze in the mirror again, and what Suzaku saw in those eyes made him tremble. It was- but it couldn't be - but it  _felt like_ Zero. Could it be Zero had gotten to Lelouch already? That he had been tormenting Lelouch as he'd threatened to - as Suzaku had feared all along?

"You didn't think of that, did you?"

Suzaku didn't say anything. Lelouch stood languidly and crossed to him. "It's too late to go back now. We're on this slope now... Gravity never gives up what it has claimed."

Prophetic words, because neither did Zero, and now Suzaku feared for all of them even more than he did before.

_If someone gets hurt, it'll be all my fault._

The realization hit Suzaku like a kick to the stomach. He had known the risks from the beginning, held no illusions on what Zero was capable of, but in the back of his mind he hadn't really thought anything would happen, never considered the possibility of hostages or collateral damage. He had been selfish, too worried about himself and Lelouch.

"Why?" Suzaku murmured, surprised to find himself on the brink of tears. "Why do other people have to get involved? This is between you and me."

He could practically hear Zero's response, low and cruel, in his ears.

" _You're the one that brought others into this. You denied me, Suzaku, ran to another. And now everyone is paying for it."_

He saw the entire opera's cast flash before his eyes. Lloyd, Miss Cecile, Milly, Kallen, Gino (who Suzaku had met in the course of rehearsal, and quickly found out was a spontaneous hugger). Even Rivalz and Bradley, all in danger because of his selfish actions. And then there was Clovis, his  _father_...

_How many more must die because of you?_

"I'm sorry," Suzaku whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm so sorry."

Lelouch's hard gaze wavered. "Suzaku..." The first tracks of tears began to descend down Suzaku's cheeks, and after a moment's hesitation, Lelouch pulled Suzaku into his arms. "No, Suzaku don't do that - please don't cry. I don't - I didn't mean to-" Lelouch paused and sighed. "No, maybe I did. Forgive me."

"But you're right!" Suzaku exclaimed. "I didn't think about hostages or how the others might get hurt. This is all because of me! I'm the one Zero wants! But I was too self-centered to think about anyone else-"

"-And you still are," Lelouch added. "Suzaku, do you honestly think someone like Kallen or Milly would do something she didn't want to do?"

"But, I-"

"They agreed to this of their own free will. Every single one of the performers has a reason to be here, whether it's pride, revenge, or compensation. Prince Schneizel gave ample chances to leave, and no one took them. Maybe you were a catalyst, yes, but things spiraled out of control and gravity took over. Now we have to let this play out, otherwise it's all for naught."

Suzaku sighed. "Twisted in every way... I just want this all to be over."

"I know," Lelouch murmured, kissing his hair tenderly. "It will be soon, and then we'll start a new life together. It's not going to be easy, but I'll make you happy, Suzaku. I swear it."

Suzaku laughed, brushing the tears away. "You've always made me happy, Lelouch."

Lelouch laughed with him, but there was something off about it. Strained. The stress must have been getting to him.

"Five minutes until you need to be back on stage, boys!" Cecile called from outside the dressing room.

Still in his underclothes, Lelouch shot up with a curse. "Shit! Help me get into my costume! Quickly!"

Suzaku wasted no time, seizing Lelouch's robes and fumbling to help him dress. It was a good thing that Suzaku only had one outfit in total, because Lelouch's last costume, while white like everything the Emperor wore, was by far the most complicated in the entire program, with intricate embroidery, volumes of sumptuous fabric, and about a hundred buttons.

"Is it alright?" Lelouch asked, twirling briefly so that Suzaku could see the back. "Am I presentable?"

Suzaku nodded. "Yeah, you're fine." He reached out, touching the ruby eye embedded into Lelouch's chest, shivering as it brought back memories best forgotten. Red eyes, now a bright crimson target.

"So this is where I stab you," Suzaku remarked shakily. Truly, far too much like his father...

Lelouch curled his fingers around Suzaku's, gently prying them away from the front of his robes. "It's not real, Suzaku."

Suzaku smiled bitterly. "Oh, but it is."

* * *

The curtain had long since risen on the final act of the performance. Emotions rose and fell as the demon emperor lost himself further and further to his darkness, pushing away everything that had once mattered to him, including the dream to make a more peaceful world for Lottie. In fact, near the end of the final scene Erik had his remaining siblings arrested for conspiring against him. The first taken had been Raoul, whose execution Erik wasted no time delivering. Lottie had been present for it, her cries still seeming to echo hauntingly throughout the theatre.

And now the emperor had called Lottie to him. She trembled beneath his shadow, looking sickly and pale but with her eyes narrowed in determination. The man before her was no longer her brother, but a terrible monster, and she could not be afraid to stand up against him. For what was good and right, she would be his enemy; and if he condemned her for it, so be it.

" _Have you gorged yourself of your lust for blood?"_ she demanded. Erik visibly flinched, but did not move away from her. Lottie shook her head, unable to recall when things had gone so wrong. When was it that her beloved brother disappeared? When was it that he had come to loathe her so?

" _Will you prey upon me next,_

_is it never enough?_

_Will you not be satisfied_

_until you've burned us all to ashes?_

_O what's become of the man I loved!"_

The music changed as the anguish and loss merged to form anger. Lottie glared at her brother, the man she still loved even after all the horrible deeds he'd done. She loved him, but she knew he could not be saved. He would never reach salvation. But could she give up on him? Could she cast him aside, leave him to rot in the hell of his own creation? It seemed an easy enough thing to do, in the wake of his evil doings, but he had been kind once. He had loved her once.

" _You've past a point of no return,_

_dear brother._

_I fear now where this path will take you!_

_These flames will at last consume you_

_if you cannot turn away!"_

Her last attempts to warn him were met with a terrible outburst. Lottie cried out as she was pushed roughly, knees giving out so she crumpled before her brother. Tears glistened in her eyes as the Emperor made his final choice - chose his darkness over the light that could still save him.

" _Enough!_

_Fate has condemned me to wallow in blood!_

_Fate has damned me and made me this reaper!_

_You speak of the monster I am,_

_of the path I have chosen,_

_but offer no salvation!_

_I burn in hell, but yearn for heaven,_

_and now you shall abandon me."_

" _But I shall not!"_  Lottie insisted.

The emperor's lip curled in an ugly sneer. " _You have already betrayed me,"_  he pointed out.

" _Conspired and plotted my death."_

Lottie gasped. He referred to the meeting she'd attended with Raoul. But how had he known about that?  _"No, no-"_

" _You've made your choice, and so..._

_I make mine."_

A brief silence settled over the stage, brother and sister watching each other - waiting for a second chance that would never come for them. The paths they'd chosen forced them to separate. At last, Erik couldn't bear it any longer and turned away. "Go now."

Lottie rushed forward. "Dear brother-"

He stopped her with a heated glare, flinging his arm out violently. "I say go!"

The sound of guards drawing closer to the room became apparent. Lottie glanced to the door, knowing if she stayed too long she would lose her chance to escape and be apprehended as Raoul had been. Erik was giving her this chance to live, she realized, and so she could not abandon him.

" _I cannot leave you with this darkness,_

_this distortion in your soul-"_

" _Go now and leave me!"_

Lottie was stunned, not just by her brother's screams but by the hatred in his eyes. The brother who loved her would never have looked upon her with such loathing...

Wordlessly she acquiesced, retreating backwards slowly. A small sob escaped her before she fled the stage.

Erik's facade crumbled.

" _And so she leaves..._

_So easily she flees my presence,_

_so easily she abandons me._

_But you..."_

He smiled sadly as a single light illuminated where the Black Knight stood upstage.

" _You, my Darkness,_

_I know you never will._

_You are right_

_and always have been right._

_You are my only ally_

_and you always have been._

_I see it now,_

_see it all to clearly,_

_and it pains me,_

_this lesson I have learned."_

He laughed.  _"A point of no return, you say... the point of no return."_

The music changed slowly and the Black Knight sauntered forward, his shadow crossing over the emperor as he spread his arms out, beckoning. Erik stared at him, still somewhat uncertain if he should leave everything behind to embrace his Darkness. His Darkness had always been there for him, a silent pillar of strength, but it was because of that very Darkness his world was coming apart at the seams.

" _Past the point of no return,_

_no backward glances,_

_our games of make believe are at an end."_

Everything about the Black Knight's physical language spoke of as much. They were abandoning all pretense, all thoughts of morality if they finally came together. Became one, as perhaps Erik had truly yearned for all along. To really establish that connection... Even if his mind screamed that it was wrong to unite with the Darkness this way (a sentiment the audience agreed with wholeheartedly) his heart - his very soul - craved it.

And so the emperor approached, slowly bridging the gap between them.

" _Past all thought of if or when._

_No use resisting."_

The Black Knight followed him every step of the way, head turning to coincide with Erik's movements. His character did not not speak, but there was a new energy about him, as if he was containing himself, bottling his mounting desperation.

" _Abandon thought,_

_and let the dream descend."_

When Erik came close enough, the Black Knight's hands moved, tracing the air around the emperor, the shape of him. The audience watched with baited breath, uncomfortable and yet unable to look away. The way the two actors danced around each other - never touching, but coming teasingly close - was disturbingly seductive.

The emperor turned his back to the Black Knight just as his Darkness's arms caged around him, holding him against the larger body.

" _Past the point of no return,_

_the final threshold._

_What warm, unspoken secrets_

_to be learned_

_beyond the point of no return?"_

Several ladies gasped as one of the Black Knight's hands trailed down Erik's torso, fingers splayed and pulling at the expensive fabric, revealing a flash of pale collarbone. Erik breathed shakily, cheeks reddening attractively as the Black Knight weaved his spell.

" _And now is the moment where_

_words run dry._

_I have come here hardly knowing the reason._

_In my mind, I've already imagined_

_the two of us entwining,_

_defenseless and silent,_

_and now I have no second thoughts._

_She has betrayed me and I have no second thoughts._

_I've decided."_

His head tipped back, exposing a white throat. "I've decided," Erik whispered, and-

How inappropriate! There was an outburst of shocked murmurs from the audience. Such things were not meant for the public eye to see, and yet there was the Black Knight's hand, slipping lewdly between the emperor's legs!

The flash of a blade caught everyone even more off guard, and thankfully it was enough to wake Erik from his stupor. There was fear in his eyes as he ripped himself away from his Darkness, which only increased as the Black Knight gave chase. Erik's voice rose in desperation as he repeated the chorus.

" _Past the point of no return,_

_the final threshold!"_

He tried to run but could not escape. The Black Knight utilized the rope and pulley system, climbing the ropes and jumping from one to the next, his cloak flowing gracefully with each movement. The actor made it look all too easy, never once losing balance or getting tangled. When he dropped back down to the stage it was just in time to block the emperor's path. The Black Knight had a length of rope in his hands, which he threw around Erik, like a lasso.

Erik's voice cracked as tears ran from his eyes. Despite his many sins, the many among the audience felt bad to witness him fall to this level - about to be destroyed by the last of whom he trusted.

" _The bridge is crossed, so stand_

_and watch it burn!"_

The Black Knight grasped Erik by the upper arm, twirling him back against his chest and bending him backwards, slowly lowering him to the ground.

" _We've passed the point of no return."_

A sort of calm settled over Erik as he accepted what was about to happen: his destruction at the hands of his Darkness. Erik reached up, brushing his fingers over the smooth black material covering the Black Knight's face. The music softened around them.

The Black Knight made a strange sound - one mistaken for a laugh. The emperor closed his eyes and waited.

" _You as well, my angel,_

_my darkness._

_You deceived me."_

The knife glinted as it was raised. Again came that strange sound. It wasn't laughter at all - the Black Knight was crying. And it suddenly made sense to the audience. All along, the Black Knight had been watching over the emperor, a silent guardian, hoping the emperor would not choose this path. And now that he had, now that he'd taken it to the point of no return, the Black Knight had no choice. As an act of love, he had to destroy the emperor himself.

When the knife came down, embedding in the Emperor's heart, the Darkness screamed.

Then - strangely, as the curtain had already started to fall - so did the Emperor.

Audience members exchanged glances, confused. Had the emperor's death not signified the end of the performance? Quite honestly, they were ready for it to be over; the opera was a horrific thing, highly inappropriate for the stage. But something was happening. The Emperor was thrashing on the ground, his hands gripping his hair tightly.

"Lelouch!" The Black Knight cried, ripping the mask from his face and falling to his knees beside the hysterical actor. "Lelouch, look at me - look at me!" He gripped the other man's shoulders and tried to shake him.

"No!" Lelouch shouted, writhing. His eyes shot open, and there was a strange redness about them, as if he'd been crying. When he blinked it was gone and he looked desperately at the man who had played the Black Knight. "Suzaku, he's here - it's him!"

"Where?" Suzaku looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of 'him'.

Lelouch shook his head. "It's him," he said again, and then another strangled cry. "Suza-" Once more his eyes were strangely rimmed with red. "How was my Requiem? Was everyone... pleased with it?"

What was going on? Whatever was happening on stage was not part of the script. That was easy enough to tell at this point, not only because of the words being spoken but because other members of the Opera, including stagehands, were rushing on stage, trying to calm their leading tenor.

"Lower the grand drape!" someone shouted. The stagehands jumped to action, and the commotion was finally blocked from view.

"Everyone, please remain calm," the Opera's manager called from his private box. He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Obviously the stress of shouldering a leading role proved too much for him. Some rest and he'll be good as new. Now, if you'll please-"

A rattling from above made Bartley fall silent. All eyes lifted, focusing on the chandelier.

" _Encore_!" A voice - coming from everywhere and nowhere - shouted. " _Encore_!"

Another loud rattle. The crystals of the chandelier rattled, and then there was a loud  _crack_.

"Stay calm," Bartley repeated, but the conviction behind his words had vanished.

Ladies began to scream, as quickly their husbands and chaperones attempted to pull them from their seats. The audience dissolved into panic, men, women and children all attempting to flee from the crowded rows as the impossible became reality and the rope holding the chandelier safely above them snapped.

* * *

Backstage was a war zone, costumed performers fleeing in all directions, the acoustics echoing with screams. Frantically, Suzaku fought against the stream of people. In the panic, he had somehow lost Lelouch, and it was dark, too dark, without the chandelier to illuminate the stage.

They had to disappear. He and Lelouch were not safe here, and never would be again. Suzaku could feel  _him_ , Zero, looming ever closer, watching him in the safety of the shadows, waiting to take him and never let him go.

"Lelouch!" Suzaku cried, his voice swallowed by the other calls and disappearing. "Please, where are you? Lelouch!"

He felt a warm chest against his back, the hands around his waist gentle and familiar, and Suzaku relaxed in the hold, breathing a soft sigh of relief. "Lelou-"

" _Past the point of no return. No backward glances. The games we've played till now are at an end."_

Suzaku's eyes widened as the familiar voice met his ears. "No," he whimpered. "No."

But still, the voice sang on.  _"Past all thought of_ "if" or"when".  _No use resisting_."

"Don't do this," Suzaku begged. "Please."

His feet were rooted to the spot, his body incapable of moving out of Zero's embrace. He should have been stronger, should have been able to tear himself away easily. But the voice was too beautiful, immobilizing him in a way he would never be able to explain as his vision glazed over in red.

" _Abandon thought and let the dream descend."_

"I-I..." Suzaku moaned, tilting his head back, all protests swallowed by the music seeping into him, his body and mind touched in a sensual caress.

" _What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us?"_

He was being pulled forward, pulled away into hell, but Suzaku no longer had the capacity to care. The voice was still singing, and he had to listen, could not exist without it. He would die when the music did, Suzaku was sure of it.

And the voice never stopped, coaxing Suzaku forward, pushing him in the direction he wished for him to go, and Suzaku complied for he could not see, could not think or hear save for the song.

" _Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun."_

Down he traveled, further and further, but whether he was taken to heaven or a dungeon of dark despair made no difference to Suzaku. He went where his master led him.

" _Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question? How long should we two wait before we're one?"_

Hands cupped his cheeks, pulling his head upwards to look at... look at what? Suzaku could only see red, everywhere, filling and distorting his vision.

" _When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?"_

Suzaku gasped as the words washed over him in a long, slow burn that spread all the way to the tips of toes, and in that moment, he would have given the voice anything. His body, mind and soul, it all belonged to him.  _Yes, oh yes..._

" _We've past the point of no return,"_ the voice crooned, almost a whisper, and Suzaku could feel warm breath against his lips, heard a soft sigh as a forehead leaned to press against his. So close, so close...

" _Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime."_

It was the same voice, Suzaku realized, the same compelling beauty, but there was something... off about it. Something wrong...

" _Lead me, save me from my solitude."_

What once had been confidence and seduction was now hesitance and insecurity, and the song... hadn't he heard it before?

" _Say you'll want me with you, here beside you."_

Another time, another voice, similar but younger - almost girlish. Soft eyes the color of violets and arms that held him when it had felt like the world was ending.

" _Anywhere you go let me go to."_

 _Stop it,_ Suzaku pleaded silently.  _Stop. That isn't your song._

" _Suzaku..."_

_Don't! It doesn't belong to you!_

" _...that's all I ask of you."_

"NOOOO!" The scream resounded, bouncing off the walls and echoing back in a horrible round of agony. It took Suzaku a moment to realize that it had been torn from his own throat, as he scrambled backwards, tearing himself out of his captor's grip both physically and mentally.

"No, I won't, I won't!" Suzaku cried, head in his hands. "You can't make me! No! NO!"

A hand on his shoulder. "Suzaku-"

Suzaku lashed out, crushing the voice against a wall. "DON'T SPEAK TO ME! I don't want to hear your voice, in my ears, in my  _head_. Always, always, attacking my senses and filling me with red! I HATE THE RED!"

Suzaku's hands were around a warm throat, squeezing tighter, choking the words, strangling the song so that it could never come out again. He'd kill it, he'd kill the red.

"S-Suzaku," the traitorous voice choked, only making Suzaku squeeze tighter. "D-don't. Look - look at me!"

He didn't want to listen,  _shouldn't_ listen, but the desperation in those words, forced out with dying breath compelled him to obey. He met the eyes of his captor-turned-victim for the first time.

Suzaku's eyes widened, his hands falling limp as, though the haze of red was still clouding his vision, he could at last place the face in his memory, the face that had pulled him out of the voice's thrall. The same face that was before him, whose throat had been under his hands.

"No," Suzaku pleaded. "It's not true, it can't be true!"

But it wouldn't end there, for the crimson was finally seeping from his vision, until all that was left was a pair of luminescent eyes. He  _knew_ those eyes.

And now he remembered, that night, that small form covered in his father's blood, wrapping him in an embrace that smelled of metal and death.

" _He won't hurt you anymore, my angel. I'll always protect you."_

And he had closed his eyes, closed his eyes and allowed himself to block it out, take the blame, for even believing something as horrible as murdering his own father was far preferable than the truth. That the real culprit, the crimson eyed devil that haunted Suzaku's nightmares, was the one who stood before him. His friend and phantom, his tormentor and lover.

Lelouch.

And it was all the more devastating, because Suzaku realized that he had known, had always known, before the Zero Requiem, before the Masquerade ball, before even Lelouch had re-entered Suzaku's life, he had known Zero's true identity. The answer had always been there, in the back of his mind. How could it not? There had been so many clues, so many little things that pointed to the truth. But Suzaku hadn't wanted to see it, so he had pushed it away and allowed himself to be deceived by both Zero and his own heart.

Distantly, Suzaku realized that he was hyperventilating, his breaths coming in rapid gasps, and someone was yelling, although it rang hollow in his ears, as if it was coming from very far away.

 _Someone make it go away,_  Suzaku begged.  _Make it all go away._

It was the last thought that crossed his mind before he was overcome by sweet, sweet darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Two weeks and no update. Sorry guys. Forgot. I am trash.
> 
> By the way, Lawli and I are both on tumblr if you want to hit us up with questions about the story (or you can just ask in the comments section, whatever).
> 
> I am: http://leanan-sidhe-04.tumblr.com/  
> Lawli is: http://actual-pixie.tumblr.com/


	12. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is kinda a siesta from the main plot. A little interlude to provide a snippet of the extensive backstory Lawli and I have developed.

_Scritch, scritch. Scratch._

He didn't want to open his eyes. He had only just drifted off, for there was no way to sleep comfortably in an alleyway. The nights were too cold, danger lurking in every shadow, and the empty hole in his stomach kept him awake. No he didn't want to open his eyes, not yet. Maybe never again. How nice it would be to just slip deeper and deeper, to escape the cold and the hunger and do nothing but sleep for all eternity.

_Scritch, scratch._

But the  _sound_ , the strange noise very close to his ear would not go away. It continued, oblivious to his annoyance, and with a sigh, he forced his eyes reluctantly open to confront the irritation head on.

He was confronted by a gigantic pair of eyes looming directly over his face and, startled, he scrambled upwards.

The eyes belonged to a little girl, he realized, probably only a little younger than he was. Seemingly unperturbed by his skittish reaction, she stared at him intently. But her gaze was flat, devoid of curiosity, as if he was just another piece of trash in the alley.

"W-who are you?" he asked, wondering if perhaps she was homeless too. Her ratty dress and dirty face certainly suggested it.

Rather than answer his question, she showed him the object in her lap. It was a tattered little book filled with paper, and drawn on the top page... was his face.

"Recorded," she declared flatly, deadpan voice a perfect match with her expression.

And he had to agree, she had indeed recorded him into her book, for her sketch was intricately detailed, from the bags under his eyes down to the last strands of hair. The fact that she had apparently done all this work with only the tiny stub of charcoal clutched in her fist made the achievement all the more impressive. How long had she been watching him sleep?

Before he got the chance to ask, a man appeared at the mouth of the alley, looking very much like a horror come to life from a children's book - tall, dark, and completely covered from head to toe in a heavy cloak, like the grim reaper. The dangerous illusion shattered when he opened his mouth, betrayed by a voice laced with worry.

"There you are, Anya! I've been looking all over for you!"

The boy watched as the strange girl (Anya?) simply glanced up and asked, "Did you get the bread?"

"Forget about the bread!" the man exclaimed, approaching the two children. "I specifically told you not to wander off!"

Anya blinked, unperturbed. "So... no bread then?"

An exasperated sigh. "No, I haven't had the chance to buy bread yet. I was too worried about you. I thought you had gotten lost or - or kidnapped!"

"I'm not lost," Anya insisted. "He is." At this she pointed at the boy, who stiffened under the attention.

"I'm not-" the boy began to protest, but Anya interrupted him.

"Can we keep him, Jeremiah?" she asked.

Somehow, the boy got the sense that her guardian was rolling his eyes. "Anya, he's a human being, not a puppy you found on the street. We can't just take some stray kid home."

"Why not? You took me in off the street. We found Xingke and Tianzi wandering around the docks, Sayoko rescued Rolo from that rundown boy's home, and Mao just appeared one day without anyone knowing where he came from. We live in a circus of strays," Anya pointed out. "And besides... he's not "some kid". He's special. Can't you feel it?"

Jeremiah paused, crouching down before the boy. A sensation drifted down the boy's spine, whisper light and oddly probing, and he shivered under the wordless scrutiny. Slowly, the man lowered his hood.

The boy gasped, his eyes riveted to Jeremiah's face. The man was young, probably still in his early twenties, but his face - or what human remains were left of it - revealed horrors far beyond those years. His right eye was missing, replaced by a glowing artificial one, a technology the likes of which the boy had never seen before. The eye followed movements exactly as a real eye should. To add to this oddity, an orange half-mask was welded to Jeremiah's face. Jeremiah tilted his head as the child fingers hesitantly traced the trail of wires under the skin.

"Does it frighten you?" Jeremiah asked, his voice gentle.

The boy paused, and he shifted his gaze, looking not at the piece of machinery, but the man, the single golden eye shining with concern and kindness, asking for acceptance.

Slowly, he shook his head. "No, you do not frighten me."

Jeremiah smiled. "What is your name, child?"

The boy faltered. "I-I don't... I don't..." His name was a mystery to him, as was everything else in his life. He had been born the moment he had met his angel, and he clutched the gift he had left him, the umbrella, close to his chest. It was his greatest treasure, the only clue to his savior. He had searched every inch of the canvas covering, every grain of the wood handle, looking for a name, an address, anything to lead him to the boy's true identity (for he couldn't  _really_ be an angel... could he?), but the umbrella yielded nothing save for a small bird carved into its handle. The caricature meant  _something_ , he was certain of it, but whatever significance it held was lost on him.

Jeremiah nodded, understanding the boy's loss of words. "I see. Then what would you like your name to be?"

"Zero," Anya declared. "His name is Zero."

"You can't just decide for him, Anya," Jeremiah scolded.

"I didn't," Anya insisted. "That is his name. No past, no identity, he is Zero."

"Anya-" Jeremiah protested.

"No," the boy spoke up. "No... Zero is fine." He liked the weight of it, the mystery that it brought. Zero, the value for nothing. Anya was right. Such a name suited him perfectly.

Anya held out her hand. "Would you like to come with us, Zero? You'll see amazing things, see where dreams begin... You might even find what you're looking for."

What he was looking for...

_A smile, green eyes shining bright against the muted grey of rain._

If he could find those eyes, find  _him..._ Zero clutched the umbrella to his chest, and slowly, ever so slowly he took Anya's hand.

He didn't see her eyes flash red, and for a second, just a second, Anya's lips pulled up into a smile that belonged to someone else entirely.

* * *

It occurred to Zero that he had no idea where they were going, that he had essentially handed himself over to a pair of strangers. They could be taking him anywhere, and he had heard countless horror stories of what happened to foolish children who were stolen away and never seen again.

But it wasn't as if what he had before had been paradise. Even if Zero was brought to the darkest hell, at the very least it would be a change of scenery, and preferable to a pathetic death starving in the streets.

Besides, Zero couldn't believe that Jeremiah meant him ill. He was too gentle, holding his hand and keeping a protective eye on Anya, who was distracted easily, often stopping in the middle of the street to sketch a passerby, a carriage, a flickering lamp post, anything that happened to catch her interest. It was only due to Jeremiah's careful vigilance that he didn't lose her many more times in the crowd.

"Why do you draw these things?" Zero asked, indicating the rotting bird carcasses hanging from the butcher shop display. The vendor insisted they were freshly slaughtered, but the flies and the smell lingering around the aging corpses begged to differ. His idea of sketching involved young women doing elegant, pretty pictures of scenery or posed portraits - although where this image came from, he wasn't sure. But Anya appeared to enjoy candid moments, and it mattered very little to her what the subject matter was. People, animals, shrubbery, there was no discernable pattern.

Anya shrugged. "They're for my memories."

Zero raised an eyebrow. "And you need to remember  _this_?" he asked, casting a disgusted glance at the slightly green meat hanging like convicts at the noose. "Are they really so important?"

"It's all important," Anya insisted. "Everything matters. We can't just pick and choose the nice things and shut out the rest."

And at this statement, she gave Zero such an odd, searching look that he became quite unnerved and didn't press her further.

With such continued distractions, it took far longer to reach the bread shop than it would have ordinarily. The woman behind the counter eyed Jeremiah suspiciously, cloaked from head to toe and asking to buy enough bread to feed a small army, but her eyes softened when she saw the children, and she gave them each a small crust of bread free of charge.

Anya simply played with hers, turning it around and examining the tiny morsel from all angles (perhaps a future subject for one of her impromptu sketches), but Zero devoured the crust in seconds flat, and Jeremiah, eyeing his gaunt face and thin body, broke off a larger piece of one of their many loaves and passed it to him without comment.

Zero accepted the offering gratefully, happily licking the crumbs off his fingers. His other arm was still securely wrapped around his umbrella, and Anya gazed at the object curiously.

"Is this a memory?" she asked, her pointing finger causing Zero to tighten his grip protectively.

"Yes," Zero said, but it was so much more. It was a warm smile and the brightest eyes he had ever seen, it was light and salvation. His savior, his precious angel had given him this gift, and the very fact that Zero could touch what  _he_  had touched made it a treasure far more valuable than the most beautiful gems.

But Anya did not know this. She could not understand what the simple umbrella meant to him any more than he could understand what her sketches meant to her, so she simply nodded in satisfaction and brought her attention back to a few weeds springing up between the cobblestones, crouching down in the dirt to get a better look.

Jeremiah sighed at Anya's absent mindedness, readjusting the countless bags of bread (never putting them down, for thieves pounced on bags left unattended), to scoop Anya up onto his shoulders. The girl made no protest, didn't even pause her drawing. Instead she simply balanced her sketchbook on Jeremiah's head and drew on. They made an amusing sight, the great giant of a man humoring the whims of a tiny girl, and Zero gathered that this happened quite often.

"Stay close," Jeremiah said to him. "You don't want to get lost."

Anya glanced upward, her face smeared with charcoal from pressing her nose too close to the paper. "He already is," she insisted. "We all are."

Still, Zero pressed close to Jeremiah's side, eyeing his surroundings warily. Soon, the noise and bustle of the city faded away as they descended deeper into the mountains.

* * *

When Anya had said that she and Jeremiah lived in a circus, Zero had pictured brightly colored tents, flashy costumes and fantastic displays. What he found was a refugee camp.

Yes, from a distance, the little settlement hidden in the clearing of trees hinted at spectacle, with brightly painted trailers, intricate props laid to rest on the ground and performers of all shapes and sizes rehearsing their respective trades. But that was only the surface, only what the audience was allowed to see. Zero, however, was witnessing a moment behind the curtain, beyond the forced smiles and theatre paint. He saw the gaunt faces of starving children even younger than himself, elderly men and women shivering and coughing, for a life on the road was hard, especially on those who couldn't work. He saw young girls scantily dressed,escorting strangers into their tents for extra change, people with horrible disfigurements even worse than Jeremiah who only had use as objects of public ridicule.

Anya was right. This was where the outcasts gathered, forced to the edge of society for they could be accepted nowhere else, and having no other choice but to bow and scrape for the entertainment of their audience.

The children clambered around Jeremiah eagerly, grasping at his cloak and begging for piggyback rides.

Jeremiah chuckled, pulling down his hood. "Let me get these to the Sayoko first, then I'll be happy to play with all of you."

"Who's that?" a little girl asked, peering at Zero curiously.

"A new member of our troupe," Jeremiah replied, placing a protective hand on Zero's shoulder.

"He's Zero," Anya declared, climbing down from Jeremiah's shoulders. "He was lost, and I found him."

The girl giggled. "Luciano ain't gonna like that!"

Jeremiah frowned. " _Luciano_ isn't the ringmaster yet."

"Practically is. They say the old man has one foot in the grave," another boy chimed in.

Zero glanced up at Jeremiah nervously. It had never occurred to him that he might not be allowed to stay.

"It'll be fine," Jeremiah assured him. "You're one of us, kid. We'll take care of you."

Zero nodded, not feeling better in the least as they came to the dining tent and dropped the bread off. Thankfully, most of the children followed the food, some helping the young woman prepare the meal, most clamoring for handouts (which she put up with admirably).

"Come on," Jeremiah said, taking Zero's hand again. "I'll show you around a bit before going to the ringmaster's tent."

Zero nodded, feeling as if he needed another four pairs of eyes just to take the whole thing in. In one direction a contortionist was folding himself in a little box, in another a pair of young acrobats were performing flips on the grass, and children were everywhere he looked. Such a little place so overflowing with life.

"You all live here?" Zero asked.

"Well... no," Jeremiah admitted sheepishly. "We're just camping out here for a time. Technically this land belongs to Prime Minister Kururugi."

Zero glanced up at Jeremiah curiously. "He lets you stay here?"

Silence.

"He doesn't know, does he?" It wasn't a question, for the guilty look on Jeremiah's face was answer enough.

"It's fine," Jeremiah assured him. "He has so much land, he doesn't even notice that the circus is camped on his property. And anyway, after we've finished our last show we'll be moving on."

Zero stopped in his tracks. "Moving on?" he echoed.

"Of course," Anya answered. "We're a traveling circus. We never stay in one place for very long."

It made sense, Zero should have realized that they would be leaving. But even as he acknowledged the logic of the information, his mind was rebelling against it. His angel was here! How on earth was Zero to find him again if he left?

"But no matter how far we go, we always come back,"Jeremiah said reassuringly, noting the look of panic on Zero's face. "It'll be okay."

It certainly was  _not_ okay! There would be so much time wasted, waiting to return. Time he could spend looking for his savior. The city was the only connection Zero had to him! He couldn't leave!

But then again, how much progress had he been making when he was still  _in_ Tokyo? None at all, and besides, just because he met his angel in Tokyo didn't necessarily mean he  _lived_ there. It was the nation's capital, people came to visit from all over the country to trade, shop, or just see the sights. He was so limited as a street urchin, there were only so many places he could look, and no hope if his angel was of noble class. By traveling across Japan, Zero widened the net of his search considerably, for children from all walks of life sought the entertainment of the circus, plus he had destiny on his side. No matter where he went, or how far he traveled, he and his angel would meet again.

Zero tightened his grip on Jeremiah's hand, eyes bright with resolve. "Let's go see the ringmaster."

Determining which tent belonged to the head of the circus was not difficult. It was the largest in the camp site and colored a bright, ostentatious red. Like everything else here, it was a sight to behold from a distance, but upon closer inspection, Zero noted wear along the seams and fading in the canvas.

Anya went in first, and Zero finally forced himself to let go of Jeremiah, pulling his shoulders back and following her lead. Presenting himself with Jeremiah as a crutch would not do. He had to convince this man that he was useful in some way, rather than just another mouth to feed.

The inside of the tent was sparse, merely two beds and a desk, both hinting of better days. In the corner of the room were clearly relics of the circus trade, a white suit and top hat, a long cape, and for some inexplicable reason, a long thin box that took up a debilitating amount of space in the room. But the interior did not attract Zero's attention for long, for his goal was the man seated at the desk.

Sprawled was perhaps the more accurate word. The man's feet were propped on the desk's surface, uncaring of the various paperwork taking residence there, as he lounged back leisurely in his chair. Zero found himself staring at the flashy tufts of orange and crimson hair, and for a wild moment he wondered if the man was a clown.

But no, the way the man leaned forward in his chair upon the little group's entrance, eyes glinting, spoke of authority. His eyes flicked down to Zero briefly before returning to Jeremiah. "Another stray, Orange?"

Jeremiah stiffened at the address. A private insult, Zero supposed. "Where's your father, Luciano?"

Luciano grinned, leaning back more comfortably in his chair and resting his arms behind his head. "The old man's out on business. Setting up the preparations for the next town and all that. We don't want to be run out like last time."

Jeremiah did not falter. "When will he be back?"

"No idea," Luciano replied with a shrug. "So you best settle your business with me. Unless you intend to hide the kid in your tent and hope nobody notices."

"I was hoping we could find some work around here for him," Jeremiah said reluctantly.

Luciano let out a short, mocking bark of laughter. "Doing what? We have enough kids running around, don't you think? Especially with so many of the whores getting knocked up lately."

Jeremiah's fists clenched, and Zero wondered if he was on the verge of slugging the young ringmaster in training. "Your father-"

"-is  _not_  running a charity," Luciano pointed out. "You know very well that business has not been good as of late. We have to take care of our own. We don't need another useless street rat."

"I'm not useless," Zero said, his voice low and vehement. The statement was unexpected, even for him, and he was uncomfortably aware that he was now the center of attention.

"He's not useless," Anya agreed, stepping up beside him. "He's special, and he belongs with us."

Luciano snorted. "And I'm supposed to take the word of a couple of kids? Stop wasting my time."

"Let's not be so hasty, Luciano."

A man stood at the entrance. He was tall and solidly built, with greying red hair and shrewd brown eyes, and if he indeed had one foot in the grave, his demeanor gave no sign. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of his son lounging comfortably at the ringmaster's desk.

Luciano took the hint, standing up as quickly as he could while leaving his dignity intact. "Hello, Father. I trust your business was conducted smoothly?"

The true ringmaster laughed. "As smoothly as one can hope in a gypsy circus, I suppose. Now, what is all this about?"

"Jeremiah's brought in another gutter rat," Luciano accused. "He expects us to accommodate him, as if we don't have enough-"

"No," Anya interjected. "I was the one who found him. He's mine."

That seemed to capture the ringmaster's interest. "Is that so? Well then, perhaps he deserves a chance to prove his worth."

"Father," Luciano protested.

The man silenced him with a wave of his hand. "You know Anya doesn't warm up to just anyone. And besides, we've found some of our best attractions from the bottom of a gutter. Anya is one of the best acrobats we have, and we all know how special Rolo and Mao are."

Luciano curled his lip. "But we can't afford it," he insisted.

"We shall see," the ringmaster replied cooly. "Now boy," he said, crossing his arms and looking down at Zero expectantly, "what makes you a worthwhile investment?"

Zero flushed, unprepared for such scrutiny. "I... well-" What could he possibly say? Luciano was right; he was just another street rat. Nothing special about him - at least, nothing marketable.

"He has power," Jeremiah stepped in. "I felt it here." He tapped his mechanical eye. Zero looked up at him, shocked, wondering how he could have possibly known.

Luciano's glare intensified. "Another of your special cases. We got more freaks in here than a nuthouse. And besides, what good is he if he can't even string a sentence together?" he demanded.

"I can sing," Zero said suddenly.

Luciano laughed, gesturing dismissively. "We have plenty of singers already."

Zero faltered at the scathing words, but Jeremiah nodded reassuringly, encouraging him to continue. "None of them can sing like I can."

The words sounded confident, but beneath that fine layer they were hollow. Yes, Zero could sing, but he was uncertain if he should flex that particular skill. The last time he had tried... bad things had happened, things he hadn't intended.

But everyone in the room was looking at him expectantly, obviously waiting for a demonstration, and Zero realized that he had just dug a hole for himself that he could not get out of. So he took a breath, closed his eyes, and he sang.

The song had no words, just musical notes strung together in melody, and Zero felt as if it had just emerged from the depths of his being. He soared through the highest arias, the lowest tones, and not once did his young voice tremble.

And then he felt it, the burning in his eyes, the tint of red in his vision, and for a moment, Zero was going to let it come. Let them see what he could do.

But then he remembered Jeremiah's kind touch and Anya's reaching hand, saw them empty and lifeless as a set of puppets on his strings, and he felt panic rising in his chest.

_Stop._

He couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop? His voice didn't even pause, just continuing on, enslaving all those who had been kind to him, unleashing the gates of hell.

_Stop, please stop. No._

"STOP!"

The scream was wrenched from his throat, and Zero gasped, his lungs begging for air as sweat cooled on his brow and tears streamed down his face. He felt warm arms around him, holding him gently and whispering soft words in his ear.

There was a moment of silence, which was broken by a derisive snort.

"What did I tell you? He's useless."

"I'm sorry," Zero whimpered. "I can't - I just can't! I'm sorry."

"If he can't sing for four people, how is he supposed to sing in front of a crowd? We're better off throwing him back right now," Luciano said, folding his arms.

"I'm not so sure."

The ringmaster pinned Zero with a thoughtful gaze, and Zero fought not to shrink away and thus make himself appear even weaker. He still couldn't believe what he'd done - what he'd been about to do. Why had his control faltered? How?

"I thought there was some real potential there," the ringmaster finally said. "Confidence can be built up with time. We'll give him a sort of trial period and see what happens, and in the meantime I'm sure there are little ways he can help out around here."

"Father!" Luciano protested.

"My decision has been made," the man answered, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. "Jeremiah." Jeremiah stepped forward, offering Zero a reassuring gaze as he did so. "Why don't you set him up with Mao. He doesn't have a roommate yet, does he?"

"Mao?" The way Jeremiah faltered caused a twinge of nervousness to flutter up from Zero's subconscious. Even in the face of Luciano's antagonism, Jeremiah's resolve had never wavered; but now he was unsure of himself - of the ringmaster's decision. "Are you sure? He doesn't have a roommate for a reason."

The ringmaster nodded, his eyes once again finding Zero. "I would very much like to see what Mao makes of this boy. We can of course make different accommodations later on, if need be."

Jeremiah frowned, obviously displeased with the arrangement. Nevertheless, he bowed his head in silent acquiescence, picked the distraught Zero up, and carried him out of the tent. Zero didn't protest, his mind still abuzz with thoughts and worries about everything that had occurred within the ringmaster's tent: how it had felt to sing, the way he had almost been unable to stop, and the fact that his new home within the circus might have earned him a dangerous enemy with the power to make his life there miserable.

"Zero."

Jeremiah's voice broke him from his musings, and Zero realized the ringmaster's tent was now far behind them. They were nearing the far end of the campsite, and even though Zero could tell it was not their final destination Jeremiah stopped before they could get too close. He set Zero down on his feet and leaned forward so they could speak eye-to-eye.

"I do not speak ill of the people here. We're all lost, in some form or another, and this place is a safe ground for all of us. We come from many walks of life, and most of us cannot fathom what the others have experienced in their days, but still we manage to exist together peacefully."

Unflinchingly Zero stared into the face that was only half man, and wondered at what horrors lay in Jeremiah's past. And almost as quickly as that curiosity came to him, so did the realization that whatever happened in Jeremiah's past was no longer consequential. One's life experiences shaped the person they grew into, Zero firmly believed that (who would Zero be if he had not met his savior? Still a forgotten child, but with no hope of a better future), but now Zero understood that with or without those experiences there was one basic fact - one commonality among all of them - that would never change.

They were all human. Despite their oddities and imperfections, despite the fact they might be labelled 'freaks' by ordinary society, despite the many things in their lives that separated them from one another... they were all the same. They were all made of flesh and bone, and they all had hearts beating within their chests that bled the same color. In this place, that simple truth reigned above all else; that simple truth bound them together as a family.

Jeremiah's hands settled on his shoulders, both of them - even the one crafted of metal and wire - radiating a natural warmth. "But I must warn you to be careful around Mao," he said, voice low in Zero's ear. Zero blinked, surprised. Had this conversation not been about tolerance, about reminding Zero they were all equals? Was this not a safe place for them all? As if sensing his thoughts, Jeremiah continued - still speaking in a strange whisper - and Zero almost  _swore_  he saw the pupil of the machine eye glow a soft orange. "He is not a bad person, but he is... different. His talent is one we cannot explain, and he uses it without abandon. If you have nothing to hide, it is nothing to be afraid of."

"Nothing to hide?" Zero repeated, still confused. "I don't understand."

"As I said, it is difficult to explain. You must be able to understand that."

With a knowing smile, Jeremiah pressed his index finger to the space between Zero's eyes. For a brief moment, Zero's vision tinged red. He blinked wildly, panic surging in his veins, but just as quickly his power flared, it receded back to its usual quiet dormancy as nothing more than a comforting hum in the back of Zero's mind. Zero opened his mouth, a hundred questions ready to tumble free, but Jeremiah only winked at him. He then took Zero's hand and they resumed walking.

"I'm sorry to frighten you that way. I only want you to be prepared."

Zero nodded silently, still not comprehending.

The second Jeremiah parted the flap of the farthest tent, revealing two perfectly made bed rolls and an eccentric-looking boy with white hair smiling and gleefully clapping his hands, it made perfect sense. Mao turned his head towards them, and Zero was startled by the cloth veil covering his eyes.

"I knew you were coming," Mao said, grinning as he sat up. He gestured to the unoccupied bed. "That one's yours. I just made it up for you." Zero glanced at the little cot curiously, wondering how Mao had managed to set it up with his vision obscured.

Mao tilted his head, made a face, and then let out a sharp laugh. "Well of course I can see enough to make the bed!"

Hearing his thoughts so plainly voiced by another made Zero gasp.  _How_..?

"I can see very well," Mao continued, pulling himself to his feet and moving with a lazy swagger towards the pair. He spread his arms - which Zero noted were unnaturally long - out to the side. "I can see  _everything_. Things no one else can, things that don't even have a physical substance!" He reached his right arm forward. Every instinct Zero possessed told him to retreat, but Jeremiah's hands on his shoulders kept him firmly in place. "I can see everything, I can hear everything. I already know everything about you, boy with no name, boy with no history, boy with no future until he found us -  _Zero_!" Mao clapped his hands again, his smile positively ecstatic.

Thankfully Jeremiah spoke up, and his voice was a soothing normalcy Zero clung to. "As I'm sure you already know, Zero will be travelling with us from now on."

"Of course, of course, but it's still not permanent. Still plenty of time for Luciano to get his way and have him left behind." Mao sniggered.

"Regardless." Jeremiah sounded exhausted. Zero could imagine how having a conversation with this strange boy could tire one out. "Please make him feel welcome. The day has brought many changes for him, and he needs time to adjust."

"He's thinking rude thoughts about me!" Mao accused, although he did not sound offended in the slightest. It couldn't be anything new to him - people thinking rude things about him, that is. "Ah! There he goes again. What a loud brat you are."

"But I haven't-" The words died in Zero's throat as Mao pulled the veil from his eyes. It was impossible to tell what color they really were around the blinding red sigil ingrained on the iris. Zero stared, completely dumbfounded. He'd never seen anything like it in his life, and besides the shock, the sight only filled Zero with an endless curiosity.

This seemed to catch Mao off guard. He leaned forward, his lips twisted now in a thoughtful frown. "You're a funny one, aren't you? No wonder Anya likes you. How strange." Zero tried pointedly to keep his thoughts directed elsewhere, because it was obvious he could keep no secrets around Mao. But even that attempt proved futile. Mao unearthed the thought buried beneath the rest: the thought the Mao should know all about what was strange. He clapped his hands, his odd eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, I like you too. I think I'm really going to like you, Zero."

Zero swallowed, at a loss for what to do or say - or what to even think - around his new roommate. On one hand, even if he did not understand the sudden liking Mao had taken to him, he was happy not to have made another enemy, but he was still nervous. How on earth was he supposed to room with someone who could, for lack of a better explanation, read his mind?

"There is no better explanation," Mao said. "That's it. Very simple. Of course, that usually frightens people - and unfortunately you're no exception to that, you loudmouth - so I don't bill it as that."

"Mao is advertised as a fortune teller," Jeremiah explained.

"It's not as scary that way," Mao added. "People actually love it. They think it's amazing I know so many things about them. But what's more amazing are the things I don't say out loud. I know all of the Area's greatest scandals!" Zero only nodded. He supposed that would be an interesting benefit of mind-reading, although what good could knowing the greatest scandals possibly do Mao? Again, Mao read his thoughts instantly, continuing his one-sided conversation. "Well I could sell the information if I wanted. But without tangible evidence, there's rarely a reason to. But sometimes knowing is just  _fun_."

"How is that fun?" Zero spoke the question aloud only because hearing Mao essentially talk to himself was unnerving.

Mao gave a little shrug. "Well it's more entertaining than  _your_ idea of fun." He turned his head a little towards Zero, the sigil in his eyes flashing a brilliant red. "Pining after someone you don't even know."

For a moment it felt as though time had frozen. Zero's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening. All other sound around him became muffled, although he was vaguely aware of Jeremiah speaking - advancing on Mao, perhaps with the intent of silencing him.

"You don't know him, do you? This angel of yours. You don't even know his name! You carry his trinket around and that is all you have of him!"

"Stop it."

"That and a memory!"

Zero didn't realize he was shaking until he heard his own voice wobble. "S-stop!"

But Mao did not stop. The words dripped from his mouth like poison, entering Zero's bloodstream and eating away at him from the inside. Zero curled in on himself - and, strangely, he could see Mao doing the same.

"And she probably doesn't even know you exist. That encounter probably meant nothing. And despite your feelings, even if you love her and even if she is all you think about because she saved you, it doesn't matter because she probably doesn't even remember. But you'll still waste every moment of every day remembering, wishing! And that is not fun, what is fun about that?"

The sudden change in wording brought Zero back to the present. Having his most precious memory wrenched into the open from its holy place in Zero's heart and so completely tarnished by another's words left him shaken, but beyond this he could think of only one thing: someone else understood his pain. Someone else had gone through it too - held on to a meeting that quite possibly was (but couldn't be!) nothing more than chance, and devoted far too great a portion of their heart to a person that might not even know they exist.

Before Zero knew it, he was beside Mao. The other boy had collapsed onto his knees, both hands covering his ears as he muttered to himself. Any anger that had started to fester by Mao's unwanted mental probing dissipated, replaced with a sense of sympathy Zero could not recall ever feeling for another person. He reached out - feeling Jeremiah's worried eyes on him all the while - and touched a hand to Mao's shoulder.

"It's okay," Zero said, voice soft. Mao shook his head. "She does know. I'm sure she does. They both do."

Zero would not accept anything else. If could not maintain the hope that his angel was out there waiting for him, what meaning could his life possibly have? How could he continue on if he did not know their meeting was destiny, that they would meet again?

"You really believe that." Mao was not asking, nor did his voice hold any ridicule. When he locked eyes with Zero, his expression was only one of desperation. He wanted to believe, Zero could see; he wanted so badly to believe that whatever girl existed in his memory would find a way back to him. Mao wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to recompose himself. "Maybe it's not so bad you're such a loudmouth."

"I guess not," Zero agreed, offering his first smile to the other boy.

"Keep hold of that."

At first Zero thought Mao referred to his restless mind, in which case there was very little he could do. Zero's brain was in constant use, to the extent where it sometimes kept him up at night, too many thoughts rolling around and Zero powerless to silence any of them.

Then Zero noticed Mao was pointing at the umbrella - the precious token from his savior Zero always kept on his person. "I won't," he said. He took the umbrella in his hands, cradling it against his chest, and green eyes drifted into his memory. "I won't ever let him go."

* * *

They were a strange people, the circus folk; carrying traditions and superstitions everywhere they went. Everything was an omen to them – from the alignment of stars to the dryness of the grass at their newest campgrounds. Zero never saw fit to complain, even if he found it absurd. Despite their oddities they were a docile people, and accepted his presence among them easily enough. That was more than Zero had ever hoped for: a place to belong.

Of course, nothing in the world came without a price. After the first two weeks on the road Zero overheard the ringmaster's son complaining loudly about how not everyone was pulling their weight.

"He's a scrawny little freak – should've known he was lying before. 'No one can sing like I can'. What a load of crap! I say we toss him."

"But Jeremiah insisted he has a power. He's never lied to us before."

"So he has a gift, big deal. Fat lot of good it'll do us if he just keeps to his tent all day. How're we supposed to make a profit?"

"That's your job, isn't it? If you expect to run the show one day, I suggest you figure it out."

Zero left his hiding spot at that, not wanting to know how Luciano planned to figure things out. He had no intention of being beaten into submission. If they wanted him to perform, so be it. He had a talent – and he was sure it would amaze them. The power of absolute obedience wasn't a common one, after all.

He decided to demonstrate after supper. Most the gypsies were in the best of moods then, sated by food and drink, and idle chatter filled the air. Talk always turned to performances at some point – who was doing well and who had passed their prime – and that night was no exception. To the small group gathered around the fire, he asked for a volunteer. There was a chorus of giggles, and several hands raised.

Zero chose a mousy-haired young boy and motioned for him to stand. The boy did so and everyone watched with rapt attention as Zero came to stand beside him. He opened his mouth, and when he did he was suddenly overcome with a bout of anxiety. Was it okay to demonstrate his abilities? He'd always kept them a secret in the past, afraid of what people might think, afraid of what might happen if he used them wrongly. Accidents seemed to follow whenever he'd utilized his power before. Never had Zero meant for harm to befall anyone, but somehow it always happened, and was proving a point to Luciano worth risking that? These people had taken him in, treated him kindly...

The excitement in the air fizzled.

Someone scoffed. Zero recognized Luciano's voice, commenting snidely: "See?  _Worthless_."

Burning anger shot through, making his hands clench at his sides and his vision bleed red at the corners. The boy he'd named his volunteer became rigid, eyes growing wide and equally red.

Zero opened his mouth and the boy did as well.

" _Sing_ ," Zero commanded.

And the boy did, his voice climbing higher and higher and never once faltering or cracking. The boy's voice slid effortlessly up a scale, and then another, reaching notes thought to most as unfathomable – especially for a boy who, in all the time he'd been with the circus, had never spoken more than a handful of mumbled words.

He'd always been able to control others. That was his gift, which he'd possessed as long as he could remember. It wasn't simply asking someone to do something and having him or her obey without question; it was a certain feeling, a burning in his veins. He knew when it took effect – he could  _feel_  it, the power coursing through him. Often he would see red and he would  _know_  that whatever instructions he gave would be heeded. It worked well enough when he spoke.

But when he  _sang_ …

Zero swept his arm out and the boy turned as if on a string, a marionette under his master's control.  _"Sing for me!"_

When he sang, it came without any effort. The notes floated from his lips and Zero received whatever he wanted. He didn't even have to verbally communicate his desire; it was as if they understood, naturally - as if his thoughts seeped into them through the mere inflection of his he couldn't shake the niggling feeling that what he was doing was wrong. Not because it was immoral to manipulate others, but because it was dangerous. He still knew so very little about his power – the nature of it, its limitations. To use it without being sure could only bring disaster.

One last, pure note and then the boy's voice was just a ringing memory. Zero lowered his hand and the red faded from the boy's irises. He stood, blinking and disoriented in front of the amazed crowd.

To Zero's satisfaction, everyone - even Luciano - applauded.

* * *

A soft noise reached his ears.

Zero blinked and inclined his head to the side, hardly surprised to see Rolo hovering uncertainly at the threshold of his tent. Ever since his demonstration at the campfire the child had become his shadow, lurking around corners and always watching when he thought Zero unaware. Zero was always aware, of course, but for some reason, despite the fact that it unnerved him to be under such constant scrutiny, he could never bring himself to tell the boy to stop.

There was something about the boy – maybe just that he was so small and frail, and his lavender eyes always stared at Zero with such quiet awe. He stirred some protective instinct inside of Zero, which for whatever reason Zero was unable to squash back down.

He let Rolo enter, and tried not to flinch away when the boy came to stand beside him. Eyes that had seen far too much for a boy so young swept over the tent, lighting up upon spotting the paintings scattered across Zero's bedroll. Paintings was a generous word, as the images on paper were hardly what Zero would call skillful or beautiful. They showed none of Anya's practiced attention to detail, or the grace of a steady hand. Rather they were more frantic attempts at trying to recall the exact shade of green eyes, the precise shape of an extended hand, but there was a natural progression in the works that showed practice and repetition did in fact pay off.

Rolo did not seem to notice any of these things. He pointed enthusiastically to the paintings, his eyes locking meaningfully on Zero's, as if to ask if they belonged to him. Despite the display around the fire proving Rolo had a set of perfectly functioning vocal chords, Zero had yet to hear the boy speak, and even though it made him curious he knew better than to pry. He was young himself but not blind to the cruelties of the world, and it was all too clear that some tragedy had befallen Rolo to make him this way.

Zero began to assemble the papers into a messy pile. Using his powers on the general public was something he still felt uncertain about, so in an attempt to be useful to the travelling fair he had tried to create art. He painted (or attempted to paint) the thing most beautiful to him: the memory of a rainy evening, and glittering emerald eyes. Transferring the memory to paper had been and remained an act of love, and still Zero could not look upon the face of his angel without tears pricking at his eyes. The ringmaster, however, had taken one look at them and scoffed, declaring them worthless.

"They're mine," he answered honestly. "But they're nothing special."

He was about to stuff the paintings away under his bed sheet when Rolo reached out, gingerly taking hold of the topmost paper and running his eyes over it. His head tipped to the side as his gaze travelled down to the next picture in the pile, which depicted the same face from a different angle. When he looked back at Zero, his eyes were crinkled at the corners with a sort of understanding.  _You like this boy,_  Rolo's eyes seemed to say;  _he's all you've painted._

Flushing, Zero snatched the paper from Rolo. He hated the sight of another pair of hands on his angel, even if it was just a painting, and it really was none of Rolo's business anyways. Zero had no obligation to share the secrets of his past with the boy, and he felt as if to talk so casually about his savior would tarnish the memory of their special encounter – make it no different than an everyday occurrence that might have happened to anyone. And it wasn't. It couldn't have happened to just anyone, because it was fate – destiny that had brought the angel to him that rainy evening, and destiny that would see Zero found him again.

"Who…?"

Zero stilled, breath catching. The whisper of Rolo's voice was scratchy and hoarse from disuse, not at all what it had sounded like under the influence of Zeros power, but Zero didn't know what surprised him more: Rolo actually speaking, or the question he had begun to ask. It was the question he asked himself so often, when the memory replayed over and over in his mind and kept him up at night. He would recall the warmth of fingers brushing against his own, the brightness of that smile, and he would wonder:  _Who are you? Where are you?_

And he would feel his heart break, as he did now, as reality settled heavily on his shoulders and his dreams vanished like wisps of smoke into the night sky. Each day that passed, his hope of finding answers to those questions diminished slightly further. Destiny may have brought them together, but with so little information and the circus already prepared to leave for the next city the following morning, Zero had no chance of ever finding his savior again. He'd tried to do as Mao told him - to hold on to his love - but he'd searched all around the campgrounds, and at night when the awed crowds came in droves to their fairgrounds he searched among them, too, to no avail.

A memory was all he had of that boy; that was all he would ever be.

"No one."

Zero smoothed out the edges of the painting, and then his fingers trailed to the center of the page. Reverently he traced the lines of the boy's face, hovering over the smiling lips as he wondered at their softness. Would those lips yield to him in a kiss, or would they be slack, unresponsive as paper?

Rolo frowned, his eyes never leaving Zero's face, probing...

"It's none of your business," Zero snapped when he could not handle the scrutiny any longer, his patience leaving him as he parted with the concoction of memory and fantasy in his mind and hid the paintings away again. "Who he is makes no difference if he remains nothing more than an image on paper." He sighed; feeling a pang of guilt as he realized Rolo had shrunk back from him. Frightening the boy hadn't been his intention – but when was the last time anything had gone according to his plans? True, his memory did not extend far back, but someone with good luck did not end up as he had begging on the streets.

"I... I don't know his name." Why was he even talking about this? Who was Rolo to make him feel as if he needed to explain himself, to make Zero feel as if he could do more to find his angel? Zero had already done everything in his power! The boy knew nothing of how he had suffered, knew nothing of the impact of one single act of kindness, and knew nothing of Zero's feelings!

Rolo tilted his head inquisitively, and Zero could read the question in his expression:  _You draw him, search for him,_ yearn  _for him, but you don't even know his name?_

Zero colored, and he was angry at himself for feeling embarrassed. It was different from when Mao pried this insecurity out from him; Mao had done that out of resentment, and maybe even as a warning from someone who knew firsthand how clinging to the past could create a lonely future. What did Rolo know? How dare Rolo judge him!

What did it matter, anyway? Zero knew how he felt. The rest were just details, details they would have plenty of time to fill once they found each other again.

Rolo touched his arm tentatively, but Zero pushed his hand away.

"Don't patronize me!" He regretted the words immediately. Rolo flinched as if he had been struck, eyes full of confusion and hurt, making Zero feel absolutely despicable. To take his anger out on someone so defenseless was unforgivable. Despite the age and wisdom of Rolo's eyes, he was still just a child, still innocent. "I need some air," Zero decided, getting to his feet. He couldn't look at Rolo as he left, too ashamed of his actions, but the weight of the boy's eyes followed him even so.

* * *

The circus was a bustle of activity, everyone rushing about, packing up and preparing to leave. The last show had closed days ago, and it was time to move on to the next destination. Zero had already come to terms with his new lifestyle, but it still pained him to see the campground stripped, entire lives stuffed into the cramped trailers that would be their homes for the next few weeks. He had grown rather fond of the lush mountain land, such a contrast to the grime of the city, and would be sad when the time came to depart.

He would have to apologize to Rolo later, Zero realized that. But not just yet. He wanted a chance to cool his head a bit, let the sting of his outburst fade before going back, otherwise he'd just end up snapping at the child again. Exploring the land seemed like a decent distraction, especially considering they would be gone soon, and who knew if they would come back here again?

An hour later he was regretting his decision as he stumbled over tree roots, his breathing heavy with exertion. He had vastly underestimated the sheer amount of land that surrounded their little enclosure of tents, and belatedly Zero realized that he really should have asked Jeremiah to accompany him. But he was far too stubborn to admit defeat and too lost to even know how to turn back, so Zero pressed on.

When the wildness of the forest began to thin out into even stone pavement and manicured lawns, Zero knew that he had step foot on to forbidden territory. Camping out on a small piece of Prime Minister's countless acres of land was one thing, but it was quite another to tread just a few yards away from his  _house_

But was it really a house? It seemed too small for someone as powerful as a prime minister. He knew that the Japanese valued minimalism, but he couldn't imagine a politician entertaining such a practice. All the same, the dwelling was imposing in it's own way, and the traditional architecture made him feel incredibly out of place.

The smart thing to do would have been to walk away, leave this place that was so clearly taboo. But no matter how smart Zero was, he was still an eight year old boy, and no amount of intelligence could combat his rising curiosity.

But the sound of approaching footsteps was certainly sufficient to nip it in the bud.

Zero suppressed a startled squeak, and for a moment he was frozen, powerless to do anything other than listen to the footfalls coming closer and closer. Then his mind cleared and he did the only logical option available to a trespassing child: he hid in the bushes and waited with strained ears and bated breath. The steps paused, then seemed to disappear altogether. Zero's brow furrowed in confusion. He remained crouched in the dirt another few minutes, unable to understand how someone's footsteps could fade so abruptly. Maybe it hadn't been a person at all; perhaps some kind of animal. Whatever the case, he was alone now, safe to-

" _Doko ni kakureru no, shonen?_ "

Zero gasped, covering his mouth with his hands to keep the sound from giving away his position. The voice was low and gruff, speaking what was presumably Japanese, and if anything the foreign tongue made Zero even  _more_ nervous. Could this be the prime minister? Zero paled at the thought, and at the worries that followed after it. What would happen if this man discovered him? Especially if this was the prime minister, he could do whatever he wanted! And weren't the Japanese supposed to be a barbaric race - known for cutting off their own soldiers' heads if they lost a battle? Those were the Britannian rumors, and if the Japanese would do that to their  _own_  men, what were they capable of doing to a Britannian trespassing on their lands?

Slowly, Zero attempted to swallow his fear and turned around to face the man. He had only seen the prime minister's picture once in the newspaper, but immediately he knew that was not the man who stood before him. This man was much taller, with an athletic build and a face that matched his voice: stern, gruff and slightly pinched.

With a sigh, the man crouched down. Zero remained rooted in place, afraid that any move he made would draw unnecessary attention to himself. It seemed as if the man hadn't found him yet, for while Zero stared plainly up at him, only Zero's silhouette was visible within sanctuary of foliage and darkness.

" _Soko kara dete kite kure. Nani ga atta no ka oshietekure_."

The words were incomprehensible, but Zero thought that there was just a hint of gentleness behind them, something that contradicted that grim face, and he almost came out. But then he remembered that he was still on private property, and that there was an entire circus troupe further down the mountain that was also trespassing. If he got caught, it would possibly reveal them, and he couldn't have that after all the circus had done for him.

A pause, and then came another sigh. " _Suki ni shiro._ "

Zero let out a little squeak in surprise as the man grabbed his arm and gently pulled him out from the undergrowth. He looked up at the stranger with wild eyes, shaking like a startled animal.

Oddly enough, as Zero emerged from his partial concealment, the man's gruff exterior melted into surprise as well.

" _Nani? Wakaranai no ka._.." He paused, dark eyes sweeping over Zero's pale skin, and switched languages. "Who are you?

"I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't have trespassed! I was looking around and I got lost and I wasn't sure how to get back by myself and I should have gotten someone to come with me but I wanted to be by myself and-" Zero babbled, and inwardly he winced at his ramblings, for he would have hoped he would have been able to come up with a better lie than this long winded account of the truth.

Thankfully, the man interrupted him. "Ah, I see." His voice was heavily accented, but he seemed to grasp the Britannian language well enough. "You are part of the circus troupe down the mountain."

"You know about that?" Zero asked, alarmed and upset he had revealed that secret so easily. His eyes widened as another thought struck him. "Does the prime minister know?"

The man chuckled. "No, that man does not look beyond his own problems."

Zero furrowed his brow, trying to understand how a person could not notice a group of people squatting on his own land. "Why haven't you told him?"

"I see no reason to," the man replied simply. "And besides, you are leaving soon, yes?"

Hesitantly, Zero nodded.

The man smiled. It seemed like an odd expression on such a stiff face, and Zero half-expected his skin to crack. "Then we should get you back. You are lost?"

Another reluctant nod.

"Come, I will show the way." The man walked forward into the woods before Zero could process what was happening, and he scrambled to catch up with his guide's long stride.

"Who are you?" Zero asked, panting lightly at the exertion.

"I asked first," the man pointed out. "You did not answer."

"Zero," he replied automatically, then blushed, belatedly realizing how strange that sounded outside of the circus. "My name is Zero."

His guide cast him a quizzical glance, then shrugged. "Britannian names are strange to me. I am Tohdoh Kyoshiro."

The name wasn't familiar, but that wasn't surprising given his condition. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Kyoshiro."

A chuckle and a small shake of the head. "I am always forgetting names are backwards. It is Kyoshiro Tohdoh."

Zero blinked, confused. "Oh... Mr. Tohdoh then?"

Tohdoh nodded approvingly.

They walked a few minutes, the silence thick and awkward, until finally Zero couldn't stand it anymore. "So," he began, his voice unnaturally loud in the quiet forest. "What were you doing out here?"

Tohdoh glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow. "I find you in bush, and you ask  _me_ this question?"

Zero flushed. "Well - I just - you seemed surprised when you pulled me out out of the bush. Like you were expecting someone else... or... I don't know."

"Yes, this is true," Tohdoh agreed. "I did think you were someone else. Another little boy about same age."

"Your son?"

Tohdoh paused. Zero frowned, wondering if maybe Tohdoh's Britannian wasn't as good as he'd thought. But Tohdoh looked as if he understood the question well enough, just as if he didn't know how to answer it. This confused Zero even more, because Zero didn't think it was such a difficult question. Maybe he'd gotten too personal?

"Yes," Tohdoh said at last. "I suppose he is my son."

"And does he often hide in bushes?" Zero asked incredulously.

Tohdoh smiled, soft and fond, and Zero felt a small, inexplicable pang in his stomach. "At times, yes. He is always running around, climbing over and under things. He is a - what is the phrase? A handful."

But even as Tohdoh listed the child's faults, there was a hint of tenderness in his voice, a genuine affection buried under that rough exterior, and Zero found himself jealous of this boy he had never met. He had never had parents to care for him, no one to look for him when he was missing or retrieve him when he was hiding in a bush. None that he remembered, anyway.

_Warm hands and a soft voice singing as they rocked back and forth..._

Dizziness struck, a splitting headache assaulting his temples. Zero stumbled with a gasp.

Tohdoh grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Zero nodded, groaning when the action only made the dizziness worse. "Yes, I don't know what happened."

Tohdoh brushed a cool hand across his forehead, checking his temperature.

"No, fever," he observed.

But Zero didn't hear the diagnosis. His eyes were wide, staring off at something familiar but so very far away.

" _My poor baby, sick in bed. Here, I'll sing you a song to make you feel better."_

The song flowed out gently, warm and comforting although he was sure he had never heard it before, and Zero closed his eyes.

" _Sleep, little one."_

"Yes," Zero murmured.

An image came to mind, pale skin and long black hair. But no face, no face...

_A scream, gunshots and-_

" _No, I don't want to see this. No!"_

There was more music, more pain in his skull, and for a moment everything lit up in red. And then the darkness called him home.

* * *

The ground was moving.

Zero blinked open heavy eyelids and focused on the bouncing beige tarp overhead. A groan escaped him as the makeshift bed he lay on gave a sudden lurch. He had to be in some sort of wagon, but where was he being taken, and why? Zero racked his brain, trying to remember how he'd gotten there and only succeeding in making himself dizzy.

"He's awake!"

Three faces appeared above his, none of them which Zero expected to see. He looked from Rolo to Anya to Mao, then asked, "Where is Mr. Tohdoh?" The last thing he remembered was meeting the stern Japanese man near the Kururugi shrine, and talking about his troublesome son.

Rolo tilted his head questioningly, and Anya voiced the same curiosity. "Who?"

Mao didn't have to ask. "A Japanese," he explained. "Zero met him in the woods. He's gone. Carried you back to camp three days ago."

Zero's eyes widened. "Three days?" He'd been unconscious that long?

"Yeah. Jeremiah wouldn't let anyone near you."

"You don't remember?" Anya leaned closer to him, squinting and trying to read something - Zero couldn't fathom what - in his expression. "Interesting," she said. She reached for her pad of paper and stub of charcoal.

Zero glared, not in the mood to be a model for one of her weird sketches. Mao slapped the paper out of Anya's hands. When she shouted, he shouted back. Zero covered his ears with his hands and willed them all to go away.

"You're bothering him," Mao kept saying. "Can't you see you're bothering him? This is why you can't make friends. And don't think you're friends just because you found him - he's thinking right now how he wishes you'd just disappear!"

The charcoal dropped from Anya's hands. Zero glanced over and was shocked to see tears beginning to well in the corners of her eyes. A different kind of frustration sparked in Zero's veins. He rounded on Mao, shoving the older boy. "Don't talk to her like that!" Anya might be strange, but she meant well, and at least she didn't exploit others weaknesses just to feel better about herself, like Mao did.

"Shut up, nobody," Mao snapped, whipping one of his long arms out.

The strike never landed. Zero shut his eyes, bracing himself for the impact, but though he heard the slap he never felt it. Blinking his eyes open, he was surprised to find Rolo in front of him, holding a hand to his cheek, which now bore an angry red imprint. "Rolo..." After his outburst the other day, why would Rolo defend him?

Before Zero knew what he was doing he launched himself at Mao. He'd never been in a physical fight before, and Mao was a lot bigger than him, but none of that mattered. Zero a arms and legs lashed out. He wasn't particularly aiming anywhere, he was just satisfied whenever he heard the other boy wince. Maybe this would teach him to pick on the weak!

The wagon stopped abruptly, sending the fighting boys into a heap on top of one another. The flap at the back of the wagon parted and Jeremiah poked his head in. "What is going on in here? The entire company can hear you fighting!"

"He started it," Anya said, pointing to Mao. Any traces of tears were gone from her eyes. Zero wondered if he'd imagined them.

Jeremiah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mao, why don't you come walk with us for a little bit." It wasn't a suggestion. Bitterly Mao disentangled himself and hopped out of the wagon. "Zero, you too. If you're well enough to fight, you can walk with the rest of the men."

Zero flushed. He paused to look at the other two, and ask if Rolo's cheek was still hurting.

"He's had worse," Anya whispered. "He'll be fine."

Zero nodded, then reached out to grab his umbrella. His hand met only hard wood, and a new wave of panic seized Zero's heart. Where was his umbrella? He lifted the nearest tarp, thinking maybe it had rolled away from him with all the wagon's jostling, but it wasn't there. Desperate, he turned back to Anya and Rolo, but they only stared helplessly back at him.

Was it really lost? The precious gift from his angel, the only clue Zero had to ever finding him again...

"Zero," Jeremiah called.

Unbidden, tears sprang to the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away furiously and slid out of the wagon, landing easily on his feet. It was strange; he'd been unconscious for three days, but his body did not feel lethargic or cramped from disuse.

"How are you feeling?"

Zero gave a noncommittal shrug, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his threadbare pants. He still felt a little bit dizzy, but he didn't want to complain to Jeremiah - not after the man caught him fighting with Mao. And he was more concerned over the loss of the umbrella than of himself, but he didn't want to bring that up either. It would look childish of him, to be so attached to something everyone else considered so menial. None of them could understand, and Zero would just have to look for it himself, once they arrived at their destination.

He asked, "Was I really asleep three days?"

"Not the entire time." Jeremiah's voice dropped to a whisper. "But as far as everyone else knows, that's the case."

Zero didn't understand the need for secrecy, but allowed the conversation to continue in conspiratorially hushed tones. "I don't remember it," he said. "And I don't feel like I've been asleep for a long time."

Jeremiah looked over his shoulder. Zero followed the direction of his gaze and found Mao trudging along near the rear of their party. He was definitely out of earshot, but Zero didn't know about the distance Mao needed to be at to use his power. Jeremiah seemed satisfied, though, so Zero assumed they were safe. "You were only unconscious a few hours," he said. "You woke up not long after nightfall."

Zero scrunched his nose. "Why did you tell everyone I was asleep then?" Adults were confusing.

"You were not yourself." Jeremiah frowned, appearing to search for his words. "It is difficult to explain, but you were... different. You had no idea who I was, and you were convinced your name-"

"My name?" Zero's voice rose with excitement. He wasn't so worried about the memory lapse if it meant he'd remembered his name. "I knew my name? What is it?"

"It doesn't matter." Jeremiah settled a hand on Zero's shoulder to keep him walking. "Mr. Tohdoh explained that you'd fallen. You must have hit your head, and you were confused for a little while. That's why I thought it would be best to keep you from the others."

Disappointed, Zero sighed. Even if he hadn't been making sense, that name had to have come from somewhere. Maybe it was just buried in his subconscious, along with the memories of where he'd come from, who his parents were. And maybe none of that mattered anymore, but still. Why would Jeremiah want to keep it from him? Zero wanted to know, wanted at least to understand his past.

But Jeremiah wouldn't be giving him answers anytime soon. He'd turned his focus ahead, and from that Zero could tell the discussion was over.

* * *

The sky had just begun to darken. Hidden inside his tent, Zero tried to ignore what that meant and focus on breathing evenly. After a week on the road, the fair had arrived at its next destination. The city wasn't as big as Tokyo, but the people who lived there had a love for the absurd, Jeremiah had explained, and so the fair was always a popular attraction.

This was to be Zero's newest test. Already he had survived sharing a tent with Mao, and though small he managed to pull his weight, usually by way of helping Sayoko prepare and distribute meals to the rest of the company and cleaning up afterwards. Tonight, however, he would perform for the very first time - something which both excited and worried him. When he'd demonstrated his abilities on Rolo, he'd been remarkably successful controlling the power. But that had been for such a short amount of time, and when it overcame him Zero liked the feeling of his power too much to simply ignore it. It seemed to possess him as much as the people he chose to use it on - so the thought of using it for an indefinite period of time honestly terrified him.

He stared at the crude sign Anya had painted, which would hang above the small dais that had been set up for him. The blocky, childishly rough scrawl proclaimed him  _Angel of Music_ in blue ink.

"There's the freak."

Zero did his best to hide his nervousness as Luciano approached. He kept his head bowed, fingers biting into his palms.

"Not getting cold feet, are ya?" Luciano held something up.

Zero caught a glint of metal and his eyes were automatically drawn to it. He paled as Luciano dragged the tip of the short throwing knife - the favored prop from his act - along the bridge of his nose.

"There's been a lot of faith put into you. Better not mess up. Or, y'know, maybe you should." Luciano gave one of his sadistic grins, and Zero couldn't help but shudder as the knife's edge nicked his skin. It was a shallow wound, not even deep enough to draw blood, but still a threat only a fool could have ignored. "I've been trying to convince my father that a  _living_ target would really make my act."

With a laugh, Luciano returned the knife to its sheath. The flap of the tent parted and Rolo stepped inside, carrying a change of clothes in his hands. He looked hesitantly at Luciano, who did not bother to hide his disgust, before proceeding forward and laying the clothes beside Zero.

"I'll leave you to get ready. Just came for the sign anyway," Luciano said. He stooped down to retrieve Zero's sign, and with one last smirk in Zero's direction took his leave.

Zero breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone. Bless Rolo and his perfect timing. "Are these for me?" He indicated the clothes, which seemed more like random scraps of fabric now that he was actually looking at them.

Rolo shook his head and pushed aside some of the scraps, revealing an umbrella.

Zero gasped, reaching instinctively for it. Tirelessly he'd searched for the umbrella among the storage bins, but all his efforts had proved fruitless and eventually he'd come to accept that it had been lost somewhere in the woods near the Kururugi shrine. Just the sight of the precious gift from his angel brought him indescribable relief. "I thought I'd never see this again."

With a hesitant smile, Rolo pointed to himself. Zero understood. Rolo had found the umbrella - maybe even sought it out, specifically because he knew it held significance to Zero - and kept it safe for him.

He wished Rolo had brought it to him sooner, but questioning his motives wouldn't get Zero anywhere. Ever since their argument at the last settlement, Rolo had reverted to his strict observance of silence. Just when he had begun to make progress in tearing down the boy's barriers, he'd gone and messed everything up. Guilt gnawed at the pit of Zero's stomach, reinforced by this newest evidence that, though Rolo's lips remained tightly sealed, his loyalty to Zero had not diminished.

Before he had a chance to scurry away, Zero pulled Rolo into his arms. As expected, Rolo tensed up, his eyes widening with terror. This only lasted a few short seconds, until he realized the hold was not a prelude to malicious intentions, and he softened to the idea, bringing his own arms around Zero's neck.

" _Prala_."

Rolo spoke so very softly Zero almost missed it. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he wondered if this was indeed what brotherhood meant. The warmth that spread through his entire body was a comfort he'd never experienced before, and it brought a bright smile to his face. He ran his fingers through Rolo's fine hair. "Yes, Rolo," he whispered, "I'm your brother."

The declaration felt both incredibly right and terribly wrong on his lips. The words had a nostalgic air about them, as if he'd said them a thousand times and felt the same surge of affection and protectiveness that came with them, but that couldn't be right. As far as he knew, he had no siblings.

But then why did the urge to protect come so naturally? Why, when he looked at Rolo's pale, hesitant face, could he almost recall a pair of similar violet eyes?

It didn't matter, Zero decided, letting Rolo go after another quick pat on the head. No matter if he'd had a brother in the past or not, he'd made Rolo his family now, and he would ensure no harm ever befell him again. Whatever horrors lay in Rolo's past, Zero would shield him from them, and defend against anything that dared to threaten him in the future.

"Zero!"

The flap of the curtain parted to reveal Anya, fully dressed in her costume for the evening. She was training to become one of the aerial acrobats, but for now her job was to call attention to the newest attractions the fair had to offer - namely, the Angel of Music.

"You're not in your costume yet?"

She clicked her tongue and hurried forward to help him. Apparently the rags Rolo concealed the umbrella in we're meant to be his outfit. Anya dressed him in a silky white tunic and matching vest, under which he wore loose blue pants which tied at the waist with a purple sash. As far as costumes went, it was rather subdued, something Zero was grateful for. He knew drawing people in was his goal, but he would hate to be out in anything too showy.

"We must hurry to your stage. People are already arriving!"

Zero had just enough time to grab his umbrella and secure it to his person before Anya pushed him out of the tent. The coins sewn into her pink skirt jingled merrily with her movements, providing a cheerful distraction that lasted until they reached the tent holding the makeshift stage that had been set up for him. Luciano had hung the sign somewhat crookedly, he couldn't help noticing, as he mounted the first step.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked Anya, nervousness creeping into his voice. They'd instructed him many times on how the performance should go, but how was he supposed to draw an audience? How would this actually make money? "What if no one watches?"

"That is my job. Your power will see you succeed in yours."

His power... Zero hated to put his faith in something he still did not first understand, but he nodded reluctantly. Failing in this would mean getting tossed back onto the streets, and he would do anything to keep that from happening. He would rather die than go back to that meaningless existence, not to mention this was the only way he possibly had of finding his angel again.

"Wait behind this curtain until I return," Anya said.

Before Zero could say anything more, she turned gracefully on her heel and flitted off down the dirt path.

"Come and see, come and see! Come and see the Angel of Music!"

"Come inside! He is a descendent of divinity, our Angel of Music! His voice is of the Heavens, you won't believe your ears!"

Excited murmurs followed these proclamations. Zero tried and failed to swallow his nervous, and several times thought his anxiety might truly get the better of him as his stomach threatened upheaval. He clamped a hand over his mouth. Sweat had begun to accumulate along his brow, and the tent, with all the new bodies crammed into it, felt entirely too hot.

Anya suddenly appeared beside him, her eyes blank as always. She handed him a handkerchief which he took gratefully and wiped his face with.

"Go now," she said. He opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head and pointed to the curtain. "Go."

Zero stumbled as he was forcibly shoved through the curtain. His appearance was met with a round of hearty laughter, his audience's spirits already warmed by the mugs of ale in their hands. The crowd amazed him - not for it's size, but for the mix of classes and cultures in attendance. Beggars stood next to heiresses, some without shoes and others in a dazzling silk dress or tailored suits, and they all wore identical expressions of anticipation. They came in all shapes and sizes and from all walks of life, and it was truly magic that brought them all together - the power of the fair, of performance.

At some point during this revelation, his fear vanished. When Zero took a step forward he carried himself with confidence. And when he sang...

When he sang, they listened.

Their attention was not of the leering sort, as with many of the other spectacles the fair offered. Rather they stood with rapt smiles and wide eyes that did not leave him for a second. He sang two songs for them, and they applauded enthusiastically.

Some of the women wept, and he even heard one of them cry, " _Ángel! Bendito niño_!" - a proclamation several others joined in on. Zero's heart soared. He saw the gypsy plant they'd stationed in the audience - a small, dark boy with big eyes and matted black hair - scurrying through the crowd, feeding them lines like, "He's descended from the angels!" When Zero called for an volunteer, as planned beforehand, that was the boy he chose to make the crowd more receptive to the idea of his control.

"Can you sing?" He asked the boy, who shook his head. "Show the crowd."

The boy did, opening his mouth and grating out the first verse of a Spanish hymn. Everyone recoiled. The boy looked back at Zero helplessly. "You see, I can't."

"But I want you to sing."

This was the moment his power should have activated. The magic words had been uttered, and yet, that familiar sensation at his core did not surface. With a mounting impatience the crowd waited for a miracle it did not seem would ever come.

The boy raised an eyebrow at Zero, a silent question. Neither of them knew what to do. For lack of a better option, the boy tried to sing again. He was not as terrible as he'd played himself up to be, and had the audience not been expecting more he might have passed as good.

A murmur began to rise up. Aggravated tones, sharp exclamations. They wanted their money back; this tent was a waste of time. Some of them came forward to collect the gold coins that had been thrown onto the stage. With mortification came a spike of anger, because this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He couldn't fail, couldn't be tossed out on the streets again, he refused to!

"Sing!"

The boy froze, the air seeming to catch in his lungs. His eyes widened, and Zero watched in fascination the moment his control dominated. Behind his own eyes Zero felt the telltale throbbing of his power. It flowed through his veins and took possession of him as well. When he tossed his head back and threw out his arm, the boy spun towards the audience as is pulled by an invisible string.

An aria passed through his lips. The song was one of another land, the language that which the gypsy boy had no business knowing. And yet the words were all there, perfectly pronounced as his voice climbed higher and higher throughout the song. The disgruntled sounds from the audience morphed into disbelief, and Zero couldn't keep the grin from his face.

He turned his attention away from the boy, who sagged like a lifeless doll and stumbled back to the curtain, and pointed at a prim woman in the front row. She took an uncertain step back but couldn't manage another before her features crystallized in the picture of serenity and the pure notes of the song picked up exactly where the gypsy boy had left off.

"Sing!"

From her, he moved on to a stout balding man at the center of the room, and then a poor beggar with missing his front tooth. Each time he said it, the effect took place more quickly, the singing became more pure. It was the longest he'd ever exerted himself this way, and it became obvious in the way he swayed on his feet, overcome by wave after wave of vertigo. But he couldn't stop, couldn't stop.

"Sing!"

A girl in tattered clothes, the boy with no shoes, The heiress with the red silk dress. They were all his puppets, and the crowd loved it. Zero loved it.

_"Sing for me!"_

* * *

Zero's act became the circus's most popular attraction. Everyone scrambled to see the little boy with the angel's voice and devil's eyes. Everyone... except the one person he wanted to see. Every performance, he stared into the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of familiar green eyes, only to be answered with crushing disappointment. No matter how much he grew in renown, it was worthless to Zero if his angel wasn't there.

Still, fame did have its benefits. Now that he was an asset rather than a burden, he was treated differently. The others regarded with awe and respect, and if he looked closely, Zero could see the fear in the eyes of those who had once only held contempt.

It was a rush unlike any other, especially for one so unused to it. The power that Zero had once feared he now delighted in using. And it was so  _easy_  to look someone in the eye, bind them to his will and get whatever he wanted. An extra loaf of bread, spare change, a little jig from an unsuspecting clown. Anything.

Of course, anyone would notice that the others were distancing themselves from him. Anya couldn't seem to look at him anymore, and whenever he was near Mao, the mind reader would get a troubled look on his face and turn away.

The only one who remained by his side was Rolo.

"You don't need them,  _Prala,"_ Rolo insisted on his more talkative days. He'd become much more open now that Zero actually sought out his company, rather than merely tolerated it. "You only need me."

Zero smiled, lightly ruffling Rolo's hair. "I'm so lucky to have such a sweet little brother."

In truth, no matter how much Zero had come to care for little Rolo, his possessiveness was unnerving at times. He would get fiercely jealous of whoever came near Zero, and he was growing increasingly resentful of Zero's angel. He would glare at the many paintings decorating the new tent, and once Zero had even caught him trying to burn one with a candlestick. Zero had slapped him then, causing Rolo to dissolve into tears. Zero had felt so guilty for making him cry ( _again_ ) that he had ended up forgetting his anger and holding Rolo until the sobs subsided.

Rolo was just afraid of being abandoned, Zero reasoned. He could understand that, for it echoed his own feelings. Once Rolo realized that Zero wasn't going to leave him, he would calm down. And when Zero found his angel again, he was certain that the boy would welcome Rolo as he had Zero.

But the thought of his angel smiling at someone else, looking at another with that warm green gaze stirred something bitter in the pit of Zero's stomach, so he always abandoned that train of thought for something more pleasant.

Like his next performance, for instance. By now, his initial stage fright was a thing of the past. Singing for an awestruck crowd was a thrill, and making  _them_  sing for him was even better. Zero found no greater entertainment than in that moment when the eyes of his latest victim glazed over red with submission, face breaking into a vacant smile as he or she jumped to do his bidding.

Anya came to take him to his stage like always. She would be replaced by someone else in the near future, he figured. Her training on the trapeze was progressing quickly, and soon she would be far too busy to draw attention to his act. At this point, the Angel of Music was so popular he hardly needed her assistance anyway.

"Are you ready?" Anya asked quietly, the trinkets sewn into her costume tinkling lightly as she made her way towards Zero.

Zero pulled his cloak on with a flourish, pausing only briefly to grab his umbrella. Zero had found that since Rolo had returned the umbrella to him, he was unable to bear letting it out of his sight, so he had integrated it as part of his act. "Of course."

Their walk was quiet, which was to be expected. Anya wasn't exactly known for her talkative nature, but something about the silence struck Zero as different than her normal brand of reclusiveness. Had this tension always been there? Maybe it had, but it was only now, with this likely being their last walk together, that Zero was at last noticing it.

The thought was a lonely one, especially since this was really one of the only times he ever saw Anya anymore. When was the last time he had talked, really talked to her? Or Mao and Jeremiah, for that matter? He had told himself that his isolation didn't bother him, that they were jealous, that he didn't need their friendship, but that wasn't true, was it? This circus, these people, were the only family he had ever known. He couldn't lose them.

"Are you angry with me, Anya?"

Anya paused, glancing sidelong at him. Pointedly she avoided making eye contact. "No, I'm not."

Zero frowned. "The why...?"

"I don't blame you for your actions, I blame Luciano. I blame Jeremiah. I blame myself."

"My actions? What crime do you find in my actions?" Zero demanded. "Is it wrong to be successful, to help the circus dig its way out of this money pit?"

"It is if that success is pulled from people against their will," Anya retorted. "And we are to blame for that. We pointed you to the mob and told you to sing, to take and control. You knew better, but we wouldn't listen, and now you're under your own spell."

Zero stopped in his tracks, grabbing Anya by the shoulders. The girl stopped, but her expression didn't change. "My spell? I'm not under any spell! I'm in control. I always have been."

Anya smiled, and her eyes flickered. "Not always."

"You make it sound like I'm enslaving my audience-"

"Not just your audience," Anya pointed out. "Innocent bystanders, members of the circus, the people you once called  _friends_."

"It's not like that!" Zero insisted. "It's harmless, no different than a few practical jokes."

"Do you see anyone laughing?" Anya asked flatly. "They're afraid of you, Zero, and you're too drunk with power to care. What will happen when your commands aren't so harmless anymore? It starts with the little things, little acts, and then it grows and grows. People will get hurt, people will  _die_ , and it won't matter to you because you won't know who you are anymore. That is how a tyrant is born, Zero."

Zero was silent as Anya looked at him, expression flat, eyes cold but still not meeting his gaze. "A-are you calling me a tyrant?"

"Not yet, but soon," Anya replied, shrugging out of his grasp. "It's only a matter of time, and when that happens, you'll be all alone."

"No," Zero whispered. "No, you're wrong! I won't... I'm not... Look at me."

Anya ignored him, once again walking towards his performance tent.

"Look at me," Zero pleaded, grabbing her arm. "Dammit, Anya!  _Look_  at me!"

Anya glanced down at her arm trapped within his grasp. "Are you going to make me?"

She didn't sound angry, just mildly curious, and for the first time it struck him how  _young_ Anya was. So young, yet she had the eyes of an adult, and they made Zero feel like a foolish, naughty child. And maybe he was.

He dropped her arm.

They walked together in silence once again until the performance tent came within sight. Anya opened the flap, revealing his eager audience.

"Go ahead. Your puppets await."

Zero scowled. "You think you know all about me, don't you?"

Anya laughed, something he had never once heard her do before. "I know that I do. You have no idea just how much."

And that smile, it wasn't  _Anya_ in that smile. It was cool and knowing, displaying a kind of ancientness that was beyond even the maturity Zero had observed in her before.

When she blinked, the impression was gone, and Zero stepped into the tent to face the audience that had no idea what they were getting into.

The poor little lambs.

* * *

As soon as Zero opened his mouth to sing, any uncertainty Anya may have instilled in him faded away. The uncertainty, but not the anger, and it melded into his notes, giving power and dynamism to his voice.

It was during this part of Zero's act that he saw her. She sat in the front row, lavender eyes lit up with delight. He wasn't really sure why this little girl in particular drew his attention. Maybe it was because her long rose hair reminded him a bit of Anya. Maybe it was her pretty white dress, or the way she cuddled up to the older girl sitting next to her (her sister, mosty likely).

All Zero knew was that when the last notes of his aria faded away, rather than go to the little gypsy boy planted in the audience like always, he made his way to the stands.

"What's your name?" he asked the girl, voice gentle.

The older sister glared at him, but the little girl giggled and blushed.

"Euphy!" she chirped sweetly. "I'm Euphy."

Zero smiled. "Would you like to come on stage with me, Euphy?"

Euphy gasped. "Oh, could I, Cornelia?" She glanced towards her sister, who frowned and pulled her closer.

Cornelia glared at Zero with mistrust. "I don't know, Euphy."

"Please, sister?" Euphy begged, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

Cornelia wavered, clearly uncertain, but finally sighed. "Fine."

Zero smiled and bowed. "She will be perfectly safe with me, I assure you."

"She better be," Cornelia growled.

Slightly unnerved by the malicious intent the older sister was radiating, Zero took Euphy's hand, leading her upstage.

"Do you sing, Euphy?" Zero asked.

Euphy blushed again. "Well... yes... a little."

"Would you sing for me?" Zero asked.

"Oh, well... I don't know. I'm not all that good. Nothing like you," Euphy answered, glancing from him to the crowd a bit nervously, as if it was only now dawning on her just what she had agreed to by stepping onstage.

"I'm sure that's not true. Sing a song for me," Zero coaxed.

"Go ahead, sing sweetheart!" a voice called from the crowd.

"Yeah, let's hear it!"

"Sing!"

Soon a steady chant started up, urging the little girl to sing. Cornelia looked positively murderous as her sister squirmed, suddenly very shy.

"But I..." Euphy protested.

" _Sing,"_ Zero cooed.

Euphy froze, lips snapping shut as her expression went blank. When she opened her mouth once again, pure notes fluttered out.

Her voice was sweet, a gentle lullaby that barely needed any help on Zero's part. She seemed like an angel in her pristine white dress, everything about her radiating innocence and light. The crowd loved her, captivated in a way that was beyond even Zero's talents.

And quite suddenly, everything Zero had been suppressing bubbled to the surface. His anger, despair, and frustration erupted out of him and focused on this single tiny girl. For she had never seen hardship, never gone a day without food or shelter, didn't know what it was like to stand in the rain for hours and hours until a single umbrella over her head seemed like a godsend. She had everything that he had never had, a place to go home to, a family to love her, but most of all she had a purity that he had lost long ago.

Zero had the irrational desire to taint her, to stain her soul until she as dirty as he was. He pressed closer, felt the familiar heat rise in his irises as he softly crooned in her ear: " _Sing._ "

Euphy's voice rose higher, adopting a richness that a grown woman would not be able to master, let alone a small child.

Still, Zero was not satisfied. " _Sing!_ "

Her voice rang out, and it was impossible to tell if Euphy was pausing for breath. Zero could feel his control, connecting him to her, and he relished it.

But then he felt something. A faint pull from the girl's mind, and the song faltered slightly, not noticeable, but astonishing nonetheless. Zero had never encountered resistance before.

Zero frowned, joining her melody, counterpointing her sweet soprano and pushing on her harder. He wouldn't lose control now. But he could still feel her fighting him, pushing against his power. It was a mental battle now, with Euphy struggling to escape his grasp, and Zero holding on to her tighter and tighter, binding her soul to his will.

" _Sing for me!"_ he cried, and Euphy spread out her arms as a sound that was not of this earth erupted from her mouth.

Euphy smiled sweetly, so eager to please her master as tears ran down her face. She still resisted him, but it was weak, like a butterfly fighting to escape the claws of a hawk, and Zero summoned the last reserves of his strength to crush her.

Pain erupted in his eyes, a red hot burning as he was momentarily blinded by crimson, and receding before Zero even had the chance to scream.

And the crowd watched on, oblivious to the internal conflict, unable to rip their eyes away from the scene. Not even when Euphy's tears mixed with blood.

It started with her nose, a thin trail of red flowing out of her left nostril, barely noticeable. Her eyes came next, the water already on her cheeks diluting the red and turning it faintly pink. It began to gush from her ears, streaking her hair with morbid ribbons.

But still, Euphy sang on, and the crowd made no effort to stop her, not even her sister, until finally the blood began to pour from her mouth, clogging her throat and producing a terrible choking noise.

Euphy looked towards him, dress stained red, and curtsied.

"Was that all right?" she asked him, voice raspy. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to-"

And then she collapsed.

There was a moment where the world held its breath, waiting for the child to stand up again, to smile, to sing.

Instead, she laid quietly in the dirt. Silent.

"No!"

The voice, Cornelia's voice, full of anguish, broke the spell. Someone screamed, people ran, some to the exits, others rushing to the stage, everyone talking at once.

But all Zero could see was Cornelia, cradling her sister's body in her arms.

_Her body, crumpled, dress stained with blood, legs contorted grotesquely at all angles._

"Speak to me Euphy!" Cornelia begged. "Wake up! Please. Euphy. EUPHY!"

She lifted her head, her tear filled eyes finding Zero's.

"YOU!" she hissed. "This is your fault! You killed her! You killed my sister!"

Zero shook his head, stepping backward, away from her accusing glare. "No, I... I didn't... I couldn't..."

_Shrill shrieks filling the air. A sickening crunch and then silence._

"Did you hear that?"

"He killed that girl!"

The mob swarmed, surrounding Zero, suffocating him with their bodies and their words.

And then a warm hand, clasping his. Surprised, Zero looked over to see Anya, who had somehow slipped her way into the crowd.

Anya met his gaze squarely. "Run."

" _Run, Lelouch - take Nunnally and run!"_

She yanked on his arm, displaying such a strength that Zero had no choice but to follow her as he cut her way through the crowd, fighting against the resisting wave of bodies until they emerged into the clean night air, slipping anonymously into the throng.

They ran faster and faster, Zero's lungs protesting, his legs aching, but he didn't care didn't notice because his mind was full of terrified lavender eyes, the sound of gunshots, the flash of the sword, and music. So much music...

When they stopped, the circus tents were long out of sight, and Zero (Lelouch? He didn't know anymore) collapsed into the grass, tears streaming down his face.

A gentle hand rubbed his back. Zero looked up, surprised-

Only to find a stranger staring back at him.

She wore Anya's face, but someone else lurked behind those eyes, glowing crimson in the darkness.

"Who are you?" Zero asked, eyes wide.

Anya smiled softly. "I don't blame you for not knowing me. That is what I wished for you. But I never anticipated this, never imagined your mind would fragment so horribly. You were meant to be taken care of, not left alone in the cold. Please forgive me, my darling."

"What are you talking about?" Zero demanded. "I don't understand. What-"

The words dried in his throat as he caught sight of his reflection in a polished medallion hanging from Anya's costume. The reflection distorted his image, but what drew his attention was his right eye, the entire iris glowing a deep red so intense that not even the cheap gold surface could temper it.

"What... What is this! My eye-"

"It is the source," Anya answered, putting her hand over his eye. "This is where the dissonance began. I will seal it, seal you, and right this terrible wrong."

Her hand burned, distorting his vision, and Zero - Lelouch wanted to scream, but he couldn't find the breath.

His life flashed before his eyes; Rolo's smile, Tohdoh's hand against his forward, Jeremiah, Mao, Anya, all gone in a matter of seconds.

_Not again. Please, not again._

Green eyes, a bright smile illuminating the rain. Gentle fingers wrapping the cool handle of the umbrella into his grasp.

"No!" Zero begged. "Please, don't take him away from me!"

"Hush now," the girl whispered soothingly. "Sleep. When you wake it will all be over."

_No, no._

Zero's eyes drooped, tears streaming down his face.

Anya smiled, gently stroking the sleeping child's hair. "Sleep, Lelouch. Be patient. Soon, she will find you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this little circus arc. The circus guys are really a story all by themselves. One we may write eventually. ;)
> 
> The Japanese was originally a butchered translation from Google Translate, then corrected by a kind reviewer at ffnet. It's probably still not very good though, so if you're a Japanese speaker I apologize.
> 
> Also, Lawli and I are on tumblr, and while I can't speak for Lawli, I am open for questions. 
> 
> I am: http://leanan-sidhe-04.tumblr.com/


	13. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's so late! Between school starting up again and moving to a new apartment, I've been really busy.

"Have you found him?"

The soldier showing up unaccompanied was answer enough in itself, but still Schneizel felt the need to ask. Under his expectant gaze the soldier visibly shook, knowing full well the threat that lay beneath the mask of familial concern the prince wore. "We're looking, your highness," he said hastily. "There is a lot of debris that must be cleared away. The fire-"

"Has long since been extinguished. With so many of you there, I don't understand how so little has been accomplished."

"Your highness," the soldier began again, but Schneizel silenced him with a sharp jerk of the hand.

"This is a prince of Britannia you are searching for. Double your efforts - no, triple them, because I assure you, if he is found in anything less than one piece, you will pay with your own life."

"Big brother Schneizel?"

Schneizel turned on his heel, and his expression softened immediately as he watched Kanon wheel Nunnally into the room. The young girl had shown tremendous bravery in the wake of recent events, and had wasted no time demanding a search party be formed after the night of the disastrous opera.

"I take it they haven't found him," she said, reaching out her hand, which Schneizel took without hesitation. He had long grown accustomed to the ways Nunnally sought comfort in lieu of her missing senses.

"We're doing everything we can," he said softly.

"I believe you. I just wish..." She sighed. "I wish there was more I could do to help."

Kanon spoke up from behind her. "We all do, princess."

She shook her head, clutching Schneizel's hand. "I can't lose him again. Not after I've just found him."

"You won't. We'll find him, Nunnally," Schneizel assured her, brushing her hair back gently. "We'll tear the building apart brick by brick if we have to. But we'll find him. And when we do, he'll return with us to the homeland. You'll never be parted again."

Nunnally mustered a smile, but Kanon frowned thoughtfully at him. Schneizel could tell he wanted to say something - and Schneizel knew exactly what it was - but like the wise men they were they held their tongues. It was a conversation fit for when Nunnally was not in attendance.

Even if they found Lelouch, there was no guarantee he would want to go back with them. The boy obviously didn't have the memories of his true heritage - something Schneizel marveled at the cause for - but would it make a difference even if he did? The demands he'd made that Schneizel provide travel accommodations for him and Kururugi spoke clearly of where his priorities lay. And if his relationship with the Eleven was so strong, Schneizel knew it would take drastic measures to coerce Lelouch into changing his mind and returning to the family he didn't even remember.

There was no place for Kururugi. It was a shame, because he really did seem like an upstanding young man, handsome and strong and fiercely loyal - all good qualities befitting a guard or attendant of a prince - but his heritage damned him. If being an Eleven were not enough, there was also the fact he was the son of Japan's late Prime Minister (of course Schneizel knew the name; it was hard to forget). There was no way they could bring the boy back with them without causing a public uproar in Britannia.

Still, Schneizel played the part of devoted older brother perfectly, smiling even though Nunnally couldn't see him and reassuring her that she would be together with Lelouch soon. In the end, it was not his choice to make. Lelouch would have to choose which he valued more: the family that would take him back in an instant, and give him the world, or the boy who had nothing to offer who was, perhaps, the world to Lelouch already.

* * *

Suzaku woke utterly convinced that he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming, for he was far too comfortable - a sensation nearly foreign in his hard bed and cold attic room. He had long become accustomed to the mattress and the chill, but there was a distinct difference between being used to something and the coziness of snuggling under a thick quilt.

With a sigh, Suzaku burrowed deeper into the covers. Soon he would have to be up for work, but he fully intended to enjoy this dream as long as he could. Only one more thing would make this moment perfect. Suzaku reached across the bed, hoping to pull Lelouch to him. After all, this couldn't truly be his dream if Lelouch wasn't in it.

When his hands met only empty air, Suzaku frowned and reluctantly opened his eyes. The first thing he spotted was Lelouch sitting at the edge of his bed, a pleasing sight. With his head tilted down towards his feet, he seemed lost in thought, but that was nothing new. Lelouch was often restless, his mind pulling him in a thousand directions at once and his body never able to relax until those problems and worries were put to ease.

Suzaku smiled, lightly touching Lelouch's knee. Lelouch stiffened and then, very slowly, turned to meet Suzaku's gaze with bright red eyes.

For a moment the color did not register. Suzaku saw only the man he loved staring back at him with an unusual mixture of guilt and hesitance and restrained anger; but then the smile vanished from his lips and he scrambled upwards, practically falling out of bed in his haste as the events of what could have only been a few hours ago came rushing back to him.

The Zero Requiem, the song and the  _red_ , and Lelouch looking up at him with the very eyes that had haunted his nightmares since he was a boy.

The eyes that had killed his father.

"Suzaku," Lelouch - no  _Zero_  - murmured, reaching out to him.

"Don't touch me!" Suzaku cried, recoiling as if a mere touch might infect him with the insanity that seemed to have overtaken his world. As if the man before him was not the very same one he'd pledged his heart and soul to. Because he wasn't, he  _couldn't_ be. Things like this did not happen outside of storybooks. His reaction made Zero flinch, but Suzaku couldn't bring himself to care. "Who are you?  _What_ are you? You're not Lelouch."

A bitter laugh. Zero's voice was usually melodic and captivating, but this sound was rather ugly. "No, I'm not. I simply wear his face. Or perhaps he wears mine. Who can say?"

Suzaku snarled at the insinuation that Lelouch might have stolen his identity from Zero. Zero was the outsider, the fraud, and Suzaku wouldn't accept otherwise. "I don't want riddles. I want answers. Where's Lelouch? Why do you... why do you look like him?"

"We're the same," Zero answered simply. He rose from the bed - the same swift, elegant movement Suzaku had watched Lelouch make every morning seeming now completely different - and tapped a finger against his skull. "He's in here somewhere, sleeping. Even now I can feel him, sharing a space within my mind."

"That's not possible. It's not- It  _can't_  be."

"You can't tell me you never noticed, Suzaku." Zero scoffed, features pulled unattractively into a deep scowl. He swept an arm out, advancing on Suzaku. "Didn't you ever wonder at how similar we were? Our manner of speech, our voice, the feel of our lips against yours-"

"No," Suzaku said, shaking his head vehemently. "You're wrong. This can't - I can't... No."

"But I'm speaking to you through his mouth," Zero pointed out, "Doesn't that prove the truth?"

It did, just as Zero walking closer to him with Lelouch's body proved it. But Suzaku didn't want to believe it, couldn't bring himself to accept that they were one in the same, and not just because such a thing should be impossible. "That would mean... all this time, every moment I spent with Lelouch-"

"You also spent with me. Every kiss, every embrace, every time you made love to him, _I_  was there, hidden deep inside the boy's mind, sleeping," Zero said. "Just as he is sleeping now."

Shuddering, Suzaku grabbed a fistful of his hair. Trying to digest the information proved futile; each time he tried to swallow it down his denial brought it right back up. "I-I don't understand," he admitted, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about how it explained so many things. His love for Lelouch but attraction to Zero, the sense he always had that they were never alone, Lelouch's fainting spells and frequent, unexplained absences that coincided too perfectly with Suzaku's meetings with Zero to just be coincidence...

Zero sighed. "I can't say I quite understand it myself."

"B-but the Masquerade ball," Suzaku protested, mind reeling as he tried to piece the puzzle together. He remembered Zero's appearance at the Masquerade. Lelouch had been beside him the entire time, so there was no way he could have orchestrated what happened there. "When you spoke, Lelouch was standing right next to me. I saw him,  _held_ him."

"A combination of phonetic recording and ventriloquism," Zero explained. "C.C. acted as my accomplice, and Bartley is so predictable it wasn't a difficult thing to foresee what he would say and respond accordingly."

Suzaku recalled the message Zero had whispered in his ear that night so long ago.  _You're chains are still mine. You belong to me_. No doubt that was where the ventriloquism came into play. Being so distraught at the time, he'd failed to notice the movement of Lelouch's -  _Zero's_  - lips, breathing those poisonous words.

These new revelations brought Suzaku's time with Lelouch into a whole new perspective. So many times, he'd thought Lelouch acted strange, not like himself. Because he  _hadn't_ been himself. How many times had Suzaku been fooled? How many times had he held Lelouch in his arms, unaware that he had shifted into another?

"Oh God," Suzaku moaned. "How long? How long has it been like this? How long have you deceived me?"

"I didn't deceive you!" Zero insisted. "For a long time, I was unaware of it myself. Lelouch is still in the dark, although I don't believe that can last much longer."

The sound of his lover's name took Suzaku out of his shock, if only for a moment. "But Lelouch, he's... he's all right, isn't he? He's not hurt or-"

"He's fine."

Suzaku did not miss the sharp edge his concern caused Zero's voice to adopt. "I want to see him," he demanded. Just to glimpse into those violet eyes, hold his lover in his arms, to be calmed by Lelouch's pragmatic nature and know that somehow they would get through this together.

Zero's eyes hardened. "No."

"What?" Suzaku stared at Zero, uncomprehending. "Why?"

"Why should I let you go to another man? I've waited so long, waited for you to come to me. Now that I have you, you think I'll let you go so easily?"

Horror curled its deathly cold fist around Suzaku's heart. Zero couldn't seriously intend to keep him prisoner, Suzaku didn't want to believe he was capable of something like that. He didn't want to believe that all the months of companionship and tutelage and kindness were just a mask for some madman's obsession. "You can't keep me here."

"No." Zero's expression softened into something akin to sorrow. Normally the trick might have worked but Suzaku was far too angry now to sympathize with him. "I can't force you to stay with me. If you wanted to walk away right now, I wouldn't stop you."

That was all Suzaku needed to hear. He didn't even hesitate as he stormed past the other man.

Zero's voice - that venomous, silver tongue of his that spun lies as easily as a beautiful song - stopped him before he could get fully out the door. All it took was one word for the realization to come crashing down upon Suzaku's shoulders and cripple his resolve: Lelouch.

"Can you really bring yourself to leave? Lelouch, the man you  _love_ -" and the words were so bitter, so ugly "-is still here. Walking out on me is the same as walking out on him. Can you do that?"

Suzaku froze, and still on the doorknob. Leave Lelouch? Never see him again? Such a thing was unthinkable, especially now. How could Suzaku abandon him, trapped with a madman who haunted his consciousness? Zero knew that, and as he turned back to face the man, Suzaku felt resentment rise at having his feelings used against him.

Zero seemed to sense it. He reached out, cupping Suzaku's face and dropping his voice to a soothing whisper. "I know it seems bad now, but I'll make you happy. You'll see. I can give you everything, fill your days with beauty and music, anything you could possibly want."

Suzaku slapped his hand away. "At the price of my  _freedom_. There is nothing you could give me to make up for this."

A hurt expression crossed Zero's face, and in that brief moment he looked so much like Lelouch that Suzaku wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and apologize. But he couldn't do that, refused to feel sympathy for a monster.

"It was never my intention to make you a prisoner, Suzaku," Zero said quietly.

Suzaku laughed, and even he was surprised at how bitter it sounded. "How can you say that when you've tied my hands? You've used my love for Lelouch to chain me to you. And this?" He outstretched his arms, gesturing towards the luxurious room that had been built for him. "This is nothing more than a beautiful cage."

Zero frowned, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I am sorry you feel that way, Suzaku." He sounded sincere, and in a way, he was, but it was an empty sentiment. He didn't understand, and Suzaku realized that nothing he said would change Zero's mind.

Suzaku slumped against the nearest wall, fighting down the urge to be sick.

Zero reached out, perhaps to put a comforting hand on Suzaku's shoulder, but thought better of it. "It'll be alright, Suzaku. In time, you'll see that it's better this way, that I love you and only want-"

" _Love_ me? After all this, you claim to love me?" He really did feel sick. Was that really what Zero thought this was? Suzaku knew the meaning of love. A man sacrificing his life to care for a child who couldn't fend for himself, that was love. A boy singing to and holding his friend when it seemed like all was lost, that was love.  _This_  - what Zero claimed to feel for him was... a sickness. A disease that corroded all it came into contact with, until it finally withered away into nothing. "This isn't love, Zero. It's just selfishness, and I will never forgive you for it. Never," Suzaku hissed. "Now get out."

"What?" Some of Zero's confidence slipped.

"I may not be able to leave here, but I can at least get away from you. This is supposedly  _my_  room, isn't it?" Suzaku didn't wait for an answer. "So leave. Unless you intend to rob me of my privacy entirely?"

Zero took a moment to gather himself. He clearly hadn't expected Suzaku to start making demands. Suzaku wondered what he  _had_  been expecting. Did he think Suzaku would roll over and accept this? That he would smile and happily agree to be kept as a pet?

"Very well." Before Zero left, he glanced over his shoulder. Suzaku didn't want to look at him, didn't want to equate his lover to his captor, but his pride would not allow him to do anything else. He glared defiantly at Lelouch's handsome face and forced himself to remember those eyes belonged to the monster that killed his father.

"You may hate me now, Suzaku. But hate can turn to love. You'll learn to see the man behind the mask. Lelouch and I are not so different."

"You're right about one thing," Suzaku agreed coldly. "I do hate you."

* * *

Suzaku did not know for certain how much time had passed. Twice already Zero had come to bring him food. He had the good sense not to say anything. He merely hovered in the doorway with a tray in his hands, and despite the divine smell reminding him his last proper meal had been before Zero Requiem (and who knows how long ago that had been) Suzaku refused to acknowledge him. Suzaku laid in bed and wished it wasn't so comfortable, until he heard the quiet sigh and Zero's retreating footsteps. Always Zero left the food behind, and always he came back to discover the meal untouched.

Hunger cloyed at Suzaku's insides. His stomach demanded sustenance loudly with each breath, but Suzaku could live with that pain. He'd experienced it before, to a far more painful degree, living on the streets with Tohdoh, and he knew it would take more than turning down a day's worth of food to do any harm. Besides, it distracted him from the far more harmful pain eating away at his heart.

When upon delivering the fourth meal (assorted fruits and fresh bread, it had to be breakfast time) he discovered Suzaku still hadn't eaten anything, Zero snapped, "You can't just starve yourself."

A small part of Suzaku wanted to do exactly that.

Zero huffed impatiently. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself, Suzaku."

"No," Suzaku whispered hollowly. "You prefer to do the killing, don't you?" Because no amount of nice words or trays of food or pretense of caring could hide the fact that that was all Zero was. A murderer. "Clovis... My father. I'm sure there are others I don't even know about."

"All men who deserved to die," Zero seethed.

Suzaku's throat constricted. "You can't - you can't just decide that for yourself." How could Zero not understand that? However despicable a person Clovis had been, he was still a human being. He still had a family, and people who loved him, and who were any of them to judge if he should live or die? And his  _father_... Zero had no right,  _no right_. Suzaku discreetly swiped a hand across his eyes before the tears could fall. "Leave me alone."

"Not until you eat something."

Suzaku had the urge to be childish and snap something along the lines of 'you can't make me'. In the end he only rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling, unresponsive even as Zero came to loom over the bed. He closed his eyes. "Go away."

"Suzaku."

Something changed in his voice - just the slightest, most infinitesimal shift that might have been only his imagination, but nevertheless Suzaku stilled. He didn't want to believe it just yet. Zero was full of tricks, and surely this was just another one to get Suzaku to pay attention to him. But the way he'd said his name... Even if they were the same person, shared the same voice, there was a difference in the way Zero and Lelouch pronounced his name.

A familiar hand combed through his hair. Every fiber in Suzaku's body yearned to reach out and pull Lelouch to him - but he couldn't, not yet. Not before he was sure. Slowly he opened his eyes, expecting to see the hateful red of Zero's own eyes staring impatiently down at him. Instead it was Lelouch's face - completely his, with the beautiful amethyst eyes Suzaku loved and not a trace of the phantom.

Suzaku sprang forward, kicking the sheets off himself and wrapping his arms around Lelouch's stomach. Lelouch gasped, stumbling and almost losing grip of the tray he held in his other hand. He laughed - a deep, rich sound that eased Suzaku's nerves - and set the tray on the bedside table. "I'm glad you're okay," he said.

Standing, Suzaku gave Lelouch a quick once-over. Lelouch didn't seem to have any injuries, thankfully. Suzaku didn't think Zero would actually physically harm the body he shared with Lelouch, but until now he'd had no way of knowing for sure. Breathing a sigh of relief, Suzaku leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Lelouch's. Idly, he wondered if he really was going crazy, or if the whole thing had been an elaborate dream. But they were still under the theatre, so that couldn't be the case. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his hands rubbing Lelouch's arms. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

"It's all right."

"No, no it's not. This is my fault. I should have - I should have..."

"Should have what?" Lelouch cupped his face in his hands, forcing Suzaku to look at him. "This isn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done, no way you could have known. I..." he hesitated, licking his lips. "I didn't even know. I had my suspicions before the Zero Requiem, but-"

Suzaku gripped Lelouch a little harder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lelouch flinched. "I didn't... I was afraid you would think I was insane. C.C. always warned me-"

"C.C.?" Suzaku could feel his anger threatening to resurface. He tried to keep it at bay, because Lelouch did not deserve it. Lelouch had already been through so much. "C.C. knew about this?" Something clicked in his mind: the day Lelouch woke up after collapsing during his performance for Princess Nunnally, the first person he'd wanted to speak with was C.C. The little lying Delilah must have known the entire time. So many of her snide comments - which before Suzaku regarded as nonsensical riddles to rile him up - made sense now.

_There are many things about Lelouch you don't know._

_You're meddling in things that don't concern you, boy._

_I wonder if you would still feel that way..._

"You don't think I am, do you?"

Suzaku was unaccustomed to hearing Lelouch sound anything but haughty and confident. The only time he could remember Lelouch exhibiting even the slightest bit of uncertainty was the morning he confessed his feelings. That winter morning seemed so long ago now. With a sigh, Suzaku gentled his hold on Lelouch. "Of course not." He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Lelouch's mouth, smiling when Lelouch relaxed against him.

Suzaku didn't think Lelouch was crazy, but there was clearly something wrong. Until they learned the root of the problem, however, there was very little either of them could do about it. Suzaku could only hold Lelouch and pray for them to wake up from this nightmare.

"Do you think we can leave?"

Blinking, Suzaku met Lelouch's gaze again. The thought had already crossed his mind, of course, but with Zero and Lelouch being the same person there was no point even considering they try to escape. Zero could take over Lelouch's consciousness at any given moment, so even if they did happen to find a way out of the lair Zero would just threaten Suzaku into returning. "There's no point," he sighed.

"We can't just stay here," Lelouch argued.

"Well there aren't exactly any other options." Suzaku sat down heavily on the bed, burying his face in his hands. "This isn't as simple as just running away, Lelouch." Not that their plan to run away had been very simple, but compared to this it certainly was. Back then they hadn't had to deal with the possibility of Zero being present every second. Even now - despite Lelouch being in control of the body, could Zero still overhear their conversation? If they couldn't even be sure of their privacy when Lelouch was in control, there was no way to plan any sort of escape; Zero would be aware of it before they could even try putting a plan into motion.

Lelouch placed a hand on his knee. "You can leave."

Suzaku took his hand. "You can't think I actually would." Leaving Lelouch behind wasn't even an option. Suzaku would waste away in this underground lair with a man he hated if it meant spending periods of time with his lover. As long as Suzaku remained, Zero was sure not to harm Lelouch (harm himself). If Suzaku left, Zero had less of a reason to do so.

Lelouch laughed quietly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his brow. "No," he said. "But you can."

"We're not even going to talk about it. I'm not going anywhere without you." Suzaku dragged Lelouch onto the bed so they could lay beside one another. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine they were back in his attic room and this was just another lazy morning to spend leisurely in each other's company.

Lelouch seemed to guess where his mind was at. Without another word he straddled Suzaku's waist, covering his lips with a heated kiss and burying his hands in brown curls. Suzaku sighed into his mouth, already feeling the automatic response of his body.

Soon Lelouch was working his shirt off, and Suzaku was about to respond in kind, but as he reached towards the buttons, he realized that Lelouch was wearing the dark suit Zero so often favored. This potent reminder of their situation was enough to break the lax spell that had fallen over Suzaku. He pulled away, leaning back against the pillows. Lelouch tried to coax him into another kiss but Suzaku didn't yield. It felt wrong, being with Lelouch here. He had no idea what might trigger Zero's consciousness awake - if it wasn't already - and the idea of Zero witnessing it all from some dark corner of his and Lelouch's shared mind, or even worse, of him emerging while they were still in the throes of passion, sent shivers down Suzaku's spine.

He settled for holding Lelouch against him, burying his face in his lover's neck and just inhaling his scent.

"We'll figure something out," he said - though he didn't know if he was trying to reassure himself, or Lelouch. "Somehow. We'll- we'll get through this."

Lelouch let out a soft sigh, briefly leaning into Suzaku's embrace before sitting up. "We won't if you starve yourself," he pointed out, pulling the abandoned tray of food to rest between them.

Suzaku frowned, pushing the tray away in distaste. "I don't want anything  _he_ gives me."

"This isn't about him," Lelouch retorted. "This is about your health, and while Zero and I may not agree on much, neither of us want you dead. This little hunger strike of yours is ridiculous."

"It's not-" Suzaku protested.

"It is," Lelouch reiterated, and his tone left no room for argument. Instead, he selected a strawberry and brought it to Suzaku's lips. "If you don't eat something soon, Zero is just going to force feed you. Is that what you want?"

Suzaku scowled, his mouth clamped stubbornly shut.

"Suzaku,  _please_ ," Lelouch said. "I know you're unhappy, but you can't let yourself waste away down here. You need to live. If you can't do that for yourself, then do it for me. Please."

Suzaku wavered, looking at Lelouch's worried violet eyes, and sighed, hesitantly opening his mouth. "For you. Only for you."

The strawberry was sweet on his tongue, but Lelouch's lips against his were even sweeter.

Lelouch pulled away, licking his lips and smirking. "That's a good boy."

"Shut up," Suzaku said, reaching for an apple slice. He ate slowly, trying not to think about where the food had come from, and Lelouch watched him carefully, as if convinced that Suzaku would attempt to hide morsels in his napkin or under his plate like a picky child.

"Happy now?" Suzaku asked, gesturing towards the clean plate.

Lelouch smiled. "Yes, I-"

Red flickered across his eyes, and Lelouch winced.

"Lelouch?" Suzaku asked, alarmed. "Are you okay? Lelouch?"

Lelouch nodded, giving Suzaku a pained smile. "Yes, it's - it's just the whole reason I took over was to get you to eat. Now that you have, Zero's fighting to regain control."

The words alarmed Suzaku in more ways than one, for it meant that Zero maintained some level of awareness when Lelouch was conscious.

"No!" Suzaku protested. "Lelouch, stay with me. Fight him."

Lelouch grabbed Suzaku's hand and squeezed. "I'm sorry. Zero's had more practice at this than I have. But I'm getting stronger, Suzaku. I'll beat him."

Suzaku watched Lelouch's eyes flicker rapidly from purple to red like a lantern on the last of its oil, and wished he believed him.

Lelouch kissed Suzaku's cheek. "Don't forget your promise. Be strong, Suzaku. Live for me."

Suzaku nodded, pulling Lelouch into his arms. "I love you."

He felt Lelouch's smile more then he saw it. "I'll see you soon," he promised, and then the body in Suzaku's arms went limp. Gently, Suzaku lay Lelouch down on the bed, watching his face intently as it began to stir.

Eyes opened, bright red, and Suzaku's heart sank.

Zero sat up slowly, stretching in a cat-like manner that reminded Suzaku of watching Lelouch wake after a night of lovemaking, and he hated himself for the memory. He didn't want to associate anything about Lelouch with Zero. They remained distinct individuals in his mind, and he refused to let that line blur.

Zero glanced down at Suzaku's empty tray, and he smiled. "You ate."

"Lelouch convinced me." Zero's face fell, and Suzaku felt vindictively pleased to have hurt him even in a small way. "You can go now," he added, pushing the tray towards Zero.

Zero's frown deepened, but he took the tray and left without a word.

* * *

Suzaku wished for windows. He wished for a tiny ray of sunlight, a breath of fresh air - anything to remind him of the outside world. Based on the rate of meals that Zero brought him each day, Suzaku calculated he had been underground for almost a week, though it seemed like much longer. Each day folded seamlessly into the next, and Suzaku felt like he was suffocating. He had never liked the feeling of being enclosed underground in Zero's cave, no matter how large it was, but it was worse now knowing that he would never escape. Even if he did see the outside again, he would never leave the cage. He carried it with him.

It was this revelation that caused Suzaku's fall into depression. He ate enough to keep himself healthy, just as he had promised Lelouch, and he had finally withdrawn from his bed, if only because he had stared at the walls of his room for so long he had begun to feel like they were closing in on him. On the surface, it seemed like Suzaku was getting better. But he wandered the corridors of Zero's lair like a ghost, eyes blank and rimmed with heavy shadows.

The only bright points in his life now were when Lelouch emerged from Zero. There was no way to predict when the switch would occur, nor how long it would last. Sometimes he would bask in Lelouch's company for hours, other times a matter of seconds, barely long enough to register the change. Suzaku lived for these moments, sporadic though they were, but the unpredictability of his visits and knowledge that Lelouch could be taken away at any second put Suzaku constantly on edge. The time spent without Lelouch filled him with a loneliness far worse than the darkness and claustrophobia, or even the inescapable fact that he was, and perhaps always had been, a prisoner.

As miserable as Suzaku felt, it still cheered him somewhat that it appeared Zero was even worse off. The man had tried everything to lift Suzaku's depression. He constantly attempted to engage him in conversation, followed Suzaku around with a book in hand, reading humorous passages aloud to try to make him laugh. He played lively songs on the piano to draw Suzaku out of his shell. Nothing worked. Suzaku simply pretended Zero wasn't there. He hadn't spoken a word to Zero since that first day, and Suzaku wouldn't even look at him if he could avoid it, partly due to an anger so powerful it took everything he had to refrain from lashing out, and partly because he couldn't stand to see him wearing Lelouch's face. It hurt too much.

But Zero never stopped trying to win Suzaku's favor, and while a cruel, juvenile part of Suzaku's heart was pleased at the obvious pain his rejection caused, as the loneliness grew he feared that soon he would submit, become Zero's pet for no other reason than to have someone to talk to.

"Suzaku."

Even now, the sound of a human voice stirred a yearning in Suzaku's heart. He sounded so much like Lelouch, and it had been so long since he had last seen his lover - almost two days since the blissful ninety minutes Lelouch had wrested from Zero, which they had spent mostly in a tangle of limbs on Suzaku's bed. It would be so easy to answer, even if only to shout, but that would bring Zero satisfaction, something Suzaku did not want.

Instead, he closed his eyes and rolled over on his bed, his back to Zero. He wished he would leave, respect his boundaries rather than barge in whenever he felt like it.

"I've brought something for you, Suzaku."

Suzaku sighed. Another present? His room was full of books, flowers, little ornaments Zero had taken from the city above, all in attempts to get Suzaku to look at him again. All went untouched. Zero never learned.

The mattress bent as a new weight leaned onto it. He felt a presence nudging closer to him as a gravelly tongue brushed against his arm.

Wait, what?

Suzaku turned before he could stop himself, coming face to face with feline eyes. The cat pawed the bedclothes, nose twitching as it examined its new surroundings curiously. It had scraggly black fur, wide amber eyes, one of which was outlined by a darker black spot, and it was so painfully dirty and thin Suzaku's heart immediately went out to the creature.

For the first time in close to a week, Suzaku met Zero's eyes, raising an eyebrow.

Zero grinned, looking, in Suzaku's opinion, entirely too pleased with himself. "I found him on the street, digging through trash bins. He was obviously a stray-"

"So you decided to take him home." Suzaku finished for him, voice deadpan.

The acknowledgement made Zero's smile widen. "Yes, I thought-"

"You thought he'd have a better life here, with you feeding and taking care of him. How arrogant of you." The smile faltered. Zero's eyes flickered in confusion.

"Maybe he liked living on the streets," Suzaku continued scathingly, running a hand through the cat's coarse fur. "Maybe he had a life there, one that you rudely uprooted him from because you believed you could give him more."

"A life rifling through rubbish, tortured by cruel adults and stupid children?" Zero snorted. "I would hardly call that a life."

"At least it was his," Suzaku retorted. "It wasn't perfect, but he was free and happy. But you had to impose your ideas about what he wanted and needed, so convinced that you always know what's best for everyone else. Like I said, arrogant."

Zero sighed, his good mood visibly deflated. Now he just looked tired. "It's just a cat, Suzaku."

But they both knew that this conversation had never been about the cat.

Suzaku felt the cat nudge against his hand, and a small smile emerged despite himself. He reached to rub the feline behind the ears-

-only for the creature to sink its sharp little teeth into the sensitive flesh of his palm.

Suzaku hissed, yanking his hand away.

"Suzaku!" Zero cried out in alarm. "Are you all right?" He reached out to cradle Suzaku's hand, examining the wound.

"I'm fine," Suzaku assured him, pulling his hand out of Zero's grasp. "It's just a little bite."

"Still, you should let me clean it. Who knows what kind of infections that stray could be carrying? And as for the cat," Zero cast the offender a murderous glare, "I'll get rid of it."

The cat hissed as Zero reached out towards him. Suzaku took one look at its raised hackles and terrified eyes and gathered the little feline in his arms. "No," he protested. "I want him."

Zero looked at Suzaku incredulously as the cat proceeded to nibble on his thumb. Suzaku winced but didn't let go.

"You can't be serious," Zero said. "Why the sudden change of heart? If you want a cat, I can get you another. One that's friendlier."

"I want this one," Suzaku insisted. Bored of Suzaku's unresponsive finger, the cat switched to sharpening its claws on Suzaku's forearm. "He's just scared. And a different cat wouldn't make any difference. They've always hated me." He could recall many an afternoon spent trying to feed the stray cats of Tokyo, only to come back with a legion of bites and scratches, Lelouch tending to the wounds and scolding him for his carelessness.

"Then something else?" Zero suggested. "A dog, or maybe a bird?"

"No," Suzaku said resolutely. "We don't need another poor creature in a cage."

Suzaku was determined to keep the cat, regardless of what Zero said. Yes, he'd always loved the animals, no matter how one sided that love might have been, but it was more than that. He also identified with it. Scared, helpless and so very far from everything he knew, they were two of a kind.

And besides, Suzaku had a long history of loving things that only hurt him.

Zero sighed, throwing up his hands, and Suzaku knew that he had won. "Fine, keep the vicious little stray."

"I wasn't asking permission," Suzaku said, venom lacing his voice. The little body in his arms squirmed, settling itself comfortably onto his lap. Suzaku felt a soft purr vibrate against his knee, and his eyes gentled as, for a blessed moment, he forgot about Zero. "I suppose I should name you," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Oh yes, what would befit the little demon? Mephistopheles? Or perhaps Lucifer?" Zero suggested sarcastically.

Suzaku ignored him, instead carding his fingers through the filthy black fur (or at least he thought it was black. Only a bath would tell). The color reminded him of New Year's. It felt like so long ago... a shiny ebony cloak pooling on the floor as Suzaku worked Lelouch's coat off, revealing a pale shirt and paler skin. Lelouch whispering in his ear:  _"Lancelot. My Lancelot."_ And Suzaku had played along, smiled and murmured:

"Arthur."

The cat's ears perked up, and Suzaku knew that Arthur had to be his name. He had a regalness about him, a pride that his gaunt body and flea bitten fur couldn't hide. But he also represented that memory, that New Year's Eve when, despite their shared fear of what the future might hold, Lelouch had still pulled him to bed that night. He had still pressed kisses to Suzaku's lips as barriers fell away, and they had joined together in the ultimate expression of love. That memory alone served as proof that whatever spectre haunted in the night, they could overcome it. Suzaku had forgotten in his confinement, but he wouldn't do so again.

Zero glanced at the cat curiously. "Arthur? What made you..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at Suzaku. Suzaku looked away, content to remain lost in a memory Zero could probably guess the content of. With a scowl, Zero sat up and headed towards the door, as if knowing that there was no point staying.

Suzaku barely noticed his departure. He was too enamored with his new friend (meanwhile his wounds were bleeding freely).

"Looks like it's just you and me, huh Arthur?" Suzaku said with a smile.

Arthur opened an eye lazily and responded by biting Suzaku's index finger.

Suzaku let out a small yelp as Arthur jumped out of his lap. The cat's tail swished smugly as he pranced away.

Suzaku should have known better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual. We split a chapter in half because we forgot to stop writing and as a result things got really long.  
> I don't feel like linking our tumblrs this time. If anyone has questions, refer back to the last two chapters for the links. Or just leave a comment.


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